


A simple mission that went smoothly…right?

by Tsubaki94



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bombing, Concussions, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, One Shot, Orphanage, Sickfic, Surgery, War, somewhere in season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 20:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14386923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsubaki94/pseuds/Tsubaki94
Summary: A growing colection of one-shots.Ch 1: It was simple, just didn't end that way.Hawkeye and Houlihan get’s sent on a quick mission to help the orphanage with their sick children. It’s simple, thinks Hawkeye, easy. He doesn’t want to do it but he’s got no choice only problem is the bombing close by and things suddenly going wrong.Ch 2: There ar no rules in war.Part 2 of, It was simple, just didn't end that way.Ch 3: Welcom to the 4077.Arriving at the 4077th, Hawkeye didn’t know what he’d expected. Appalling surgical conditions where infections were more common than not was certainly not what his draft board promised him. Then again, they hadn’t said anything a friend ether.Ch 4: A good deed never goes unpunished.Returning from a aid station, Hawkeye and Klinger run into trouble in the form of three children. More trouble follows them as they return to the 4077th.





	1. It was simple, just didn't end that way.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just me writing because I want an episode where Hawkeye gets hurt. I tried to keep as close to how the show is, but this is a fanfic writen for fun so keep that in mind. I'd also like to credit Max, who commented on this work and beta-read it for me. I'm realy learning a lot from you ^^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye and Houlihan get’s sent on a quick mission to help the orphanage with their sick children. It’s simple, thinks Hawkeye, easy. He doesn’t want to do it but he’s got no choice only problem is the bombing close by and things suddenly going wrong.

“Attention all personnel; tonight’s movie will be a rerun of last night’s, this time missing a few frames due to the accident that burnt the film last time. In other news we got some close shelling, friendly as always. And no wounded are expected to arrive in the next twelve hours.” Announced Radar over the speakers.

“Think he forgot the weather report.” Shivered Hawkeye, tugging his coat tighter around himself.

“Freezing with a chance of frostbite.” Responded BJ, pulling his own coat tighter around himself. “If someone had told me it was this cold over here I would have stayed home.”

“Too bad you couldn’t say no to the invitation. I heard Klinger at least made them pay to draft him.” The two friends were hurrying across camp to the Colonel’s office, wishing the swamp wasn’t so far from their destination.

“How’d he managed that?” Asked BJ, his teeth clattering.

“Locked himself in a Central Station bathroom when they came for him.” Responded Hawkeye, opening the door for his new friend. BJ on the other hand almost doubled over laughing, bumping into the door before going inside.

Once indoors, the two rubbed their hands and straighten a bit as the warmth from the stove in the outside office reached them. Their hands were drawn to the heat as they passed it on their way to the double doors leading to the Colonel’s office. They stomped through the door and made a B line for the burning stove there, not bothering with greetings. Radar, bless his homemade earmuffs, was practically sitting on the heat source as he leafed through some papers.

The old cavalry man had sat himself as close to the fire as he could without moving out from behind his desk. “Gentlemen, what took you so long?”

Never missing the opportunity to crack a joke, Hawkeye looked over his shoulder at the Colonel. “We had to take a detour around Korea. The front says hi.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Potter’s mouth. “Enough with the jokes. How are you feeling about a road trip?” The two exchanged a look.

“If this road trip includes a three day pass to Tokyo, I’m all in.” Quipped Hawkeye.

“I wish,” sighed the Colonel, taking the papers Radar handed him. “No, I need one of you to go to the orphanage. They have an outbreak of the flu, among other things, and requested our help. Father Mulcahy has managed to get his hands on some extra blankets for the children as well. Those need delivering.”

“You should ask Frank, he loves to volunteer for things like this.” Said Hawkeye, having no intention of leaving camp or ever leaving the warmth of his cot again.

“That would be considered torture by the Geneva convention.” Commented Radar giving the Colonel another paper to sign, which he of course read before signing.

“For who, the children or Frank?” asked BJ turning his own bum to the heat.

“Both, Frank hates children just as much as they love stealing from him.” As always Hawkeye’s remarkable wit drew a smile from the people present.

Scribbling his signature on the paper in front of him, Potter handed it back to Radar, who didn’t move from his warm perch. “Anyhow I’ve put Frank on post-op duty for the rest of the week, after he blew up in surgery last time.”

“Ah, well then let’s not expose those impressionable minds to his temper. Who knows what foul words they'll learn from him.” Hawkeye mused, having personally aggravated Major Burns into throwing nasty comments at him and starting a fight.

“Good, then you volunteer for this job. The children will be very glad to see you.” Smiled the Colonel. “Radar write down that Captain Pierce is leaving the compound on -”

“-an aid mission and fill out the appropriate forms to get him a jeep. On it sir.” Said both the Colonel and Radar at the same time.

“Hey wait a minute, I didn’t say anything about leaving.” Hawkeye protested.

“Better you than me friend, I'll make sure a nurse keeps your cot warm.” Teased BJ, clapping Hawkeye on the shoulder before leaving the room, following on Radar's heels.

Standing there with his mouth open, Hawkeye licked his lips.

“I feel like I was just drafted for a second time.” He sighed, turning his own ass to the stove, seeing as it might be his last chance in a while to feel warm. “I don’t suppose I can get a certain Nurse to accompany me?” He asked, giving the man a meaningful look.

Nodding, the Colonel tapped his pen against the table and opened his mouth just as Radar walked back in. “Radar, have Major Houlihan report to my office.” He said at the same time as Radar reported that he’d called for the Major to report to his office.

The kid turned in the door walking back out to do his own work leaving the Colonel with his jaw hanging open. “I know sir, I ask myself the same question every time he does that.” Agreed Hawkeye, finding a chair to settle down in beside the stove, tugging at his many layers as he warmed up.

Huffing the Colonel leaned back and put his feet to the fire. They didn’t have to wait long for the Major to report in. Potter gave her the short story, telling her to go with Hawkeye or send a trained nurse to accompany him.

“Well I know what that will lead to if I do. Korea doesn’t need more children. I’ll go, give me a moment to get supplies ready sir.” She said sending Hawkeye a dirty look.

“Fine by me Major, we can adopt. I have nothing against a cute little Korean kid running around camp.” He teased, drawing a blush from the Major, who spun around on her heels and marched out of the office.

“You better get packing as well Pierce.” Sighed the Colonel. Groaning, Hawkeye got up and hugged his many layers of clothes tighter around himself. Hunching his shoulders, he walked out in the freezing cold, taking a detour to the mess tent and getting a mug of coffee that managed to warm him up a bit, even if it failed to taste like coffee or improve his mood.

It didn’t take long for Hawkeye to pack what he needed. He was already wearing most of his clothes, he insulated his boots with newspapers and filled a bottle with the latest batch of gin from the still.

“For the road or the cold?” Asked BJ, having already tucked himself in to his cot, munching on what was left of the homemade cookies his wife had sent him.

“Just in case, you know.” Hawkeye said with a smile, shoving his tooth brush and paste in to his duffle bag. “Are there any crumbs left for me to taste?” He asked needing something sweet to keep himself awake and active during the hour-long drive to the orphanage.

“Here, you can have the rest. I think there’s what amounts to one cookie still in the box.” He said handing it to Hawkeye.

Looking inside, Hawkeye shook the box to dislodge the crumbs before he poured the contents into his mouth. The sweet taste of chocolate chip cookies made his taste buds sing, reminding him of how things should taste in comparison to the crap they were served in the mess. “Send my appreciations to your wife. Tell her to send more if she can, a man can live on these alone.” He smiled, meaning every word.

“Don’t worry, she said she’s training for our kids future birthday parties.” Grinned BJ. “I'll see you when you get back. Don’t have to much fun with the Major will you. Some of us would like to get to know her as well.”

Shaking the last crumbs in to his mouth Hawkeye licked his lips.

“I’ll try.” He said with a meaningful look in his eyes. “See you when I get back.” He tugged his many layers closer around himself and headed out in to the cold closing the door quickly behind him so as not to let out the warmth from within the Swamp.

Houlihan was waiting beside the jeep talking with Frank, her gloved fingers walking up his chest. Clearing his throat Hawkeye walked straight towards them. “Alright let’s get this show on the road. That is if you lovebirds can let go of each other.”

They flung apart as if found kissing behind the bushes by a angry father. “I resent that statement Captain Pierce.” Huffed Frank, stomping the ground as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

Rolling his eyes, Hawkeye tossed his bag in to the back of the jeep, jumping in through the passenger side.

“I’ll promise I have her back by the time the war is over.” He said, drawing a blush from the two Majors.

“Bye Frank.” Smiled Houlihan, fluttering her eyelashes at Major Burns, who’s legs turned to jelly. He leaned a hand against the jeep for balance.

“Bye Frank.” Teased Hawkeye as Houlihan got in to the passenger seat. He gunned the engine and they were off before Frank realized he was leaning against it. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, Hawkeye watched Frank hit the ground and scramble to his feet, shouting after them.

The Major beside him gave Hawkeye a reproachful glare before turning her attention to the road and keeping herself warm. Hawkeye would have joined her in the keeping warm department, he was practically freezing his butt off on the scarcely insulated seat.

The hour-long drive, which took them closer to the front, was hell, if hell froze over and the caused frostbite and not burns. The sounds of distant fighting kept Hawkeye on his toes and the pedal to the metal.

He turned off the road by the old orphanage building. It wasn’t much to look at, a mishmash of different materials made up the walls and the straw roof was patched in many areas.

“You wouldn’t believe this is an orphanage.” Muttered Houlihan, jumping out of the jeep. She cast a glance at Hawkeye and twisted her mouth in that disapproving way. “Are you just going to sit there or help me unload Captain?” She huffed, getting their bags from the back of the jeep.

“Give me a sec my fingers are frozen to the steering wheel.” He muttered, forcing his stiff fingers to open, letting out a hurt noise when they cracked.

“Weakling.” Huffed Houlihan, going back in to the jeep and without preamble ripped his frost covered hands off the wheel, drawing a surprised yelp from Hawkeye. He pulled his hands out of Houlihan’s grip, blowing on them. “Come on, we’ll be back in camp by tomorrow and you can slack of all you want then.”

“Is that a promise?” tried Hawkeye, jumping out of the jeep grabbing an arm full of blankets and a box of supplies.

Houlihan gave him the cold shoulder and they walked over to the door where one of the nuns who ran the orphanage stood, a warm blanket wrapped around herself.

“Thank you so much for coming.” She greeted them, opening the door and ushering them inside.

“Oh, we are just happy to be of help.” Said Houlihan, dropping their bags inside the door. “We brought a couple of blankets and a bit of medicine. It was all we could spare, but I hope it’s enough to help.”

The sister smiled at them and Hawkeye found himself wishing she hadn’t taken vows of celibacy or he could have kissed her right there. Instead he handed the blankets over to another sister who had appeared in the tiny hall, followed by two scrawny children.

“We thank you for your generosity. Please come into the warmth, I can’t believe you drove here in this cold.” She ushered them after the other sister into a large room that was considerably warmer, crowded with children who had been orphaned during the war. Some were sitting by the table playing games or eating something that looked an awful lot like their own excuse for food. The rest were laying on pallets or carpets on the floor, huddling under blankets.

The smell was what hit Hawkeye first. Sweat and sickness, a grim reminder of his job. The second thing to hit him was the moans and sobs coming from the sick children.

“I guess you two know how hard it is to keep sickness at bay when you all have to sleep in the same room for warmth.” Said the sister by way of explanation.

“Yeah, we know.” Sighed Hawkeye his mind already working on what needed to be done. Keep the ill children from spreading their sickness to anyone else and nurse them in to health again. Everything could be done in the short time they had, all that was needed was organization and able hands. “Gloves on Major, we got work to do.” He said taking off his coat. The room was warm enough.

Many people would think Hawkeye had chosen Houlihan for this job because of her boobs, or her hot lips. But no, she was the best of all the nurses. She listened and worked with him, knowing just as much as he did when it came to taking care of sick children. And maybe most importantly of all, she liked the little rascals.

Deputizing the two sisters who ran the orphanage to nurses, they had their hands full making sure the children got food in their bellies, were kept warm and dry, and comforted them when they puked the food up again.

The work was vaguely routine, with the odd injury here and there that Hawkeye tended to, drawing smiles from the children as he did. What troubled him was the nine month old baby that was sick. Holding her in his arms, he could have stood outside in the cold without freezing, she was so warm.

Houlihan had finished the first round and had sat down by the table with the sisters, the healthy children were bunking up in a corner away from the sick ones, all asleep. “What’s the matter with the baby?” asked Houlihan, taking the child from Hawkeye’s arms.

“Diaper rash and a high fever. She needs to eat and get some fluids.” He turned to the sisters who looked at each other.

“We don’t have any milk for her. The goat that provides us with milk for her has run dry.” She explained. “We are trying to get her to eat mashed food but she doesn’t want it.”

Sitting down beside Houlihan, Hawkeye thought for a moment before he got up again. “Where’s the box with supplies we brought in?” he asked glancing around the room spotting the open box beside the door.

“What are you thinking?” asked Houlihan gently rocking the crying infant. Hawkeye didn’t answer her at once but rummaged through the canes of food in the box bringing out a box of powdered milk. He saw Houlihan relax with a gentle smile at the sight of the box.

After that it didn’t take long for the sisters to heat up some milk for the child. It took considerably longer for Houlihan to get the infant to drink some of the milk, making her more and more frustrated. When a sick child started retching she gave up completely and pushed the baby in to Hawkeye’s arms.

Rolling his eyes at her Hawkeye held the fussing infant with one arm and with a gentleness he only reserved for a very few, he coached the baby in to drinking its milk, quieting her hungry belly.

When Houlihan returned from having tended the sick children she made a cooing nose. “You are really good at this.” She smiled gently, caressing the child’s cheek.

Yawning, Hawkeye smiled.

“What can I say, the younger they are the more they get to me. And I got my own personal radiator in my arms right now.” He added, and for once Houlihan took it for the light joke it was.

The baby was asleep soon after having finished her meal and Hawkeye handed her over to Houlihan. Making the rounds of the sick and moaning children, he did his best to comfort them, feeding the ones who needed it, taking care of the vomit that was spewing from their mouths after they’d eaten, and generally being a doctor.

The work was the same whether they were children or soldiers. The flu took them out and all one could do was help the body fight the virus. Working through the night was nothing new for Houlihan and Hawkeye, who sent the sisters to sleep with the argument that they had to leave in the morning.

When the first slivers of cold morning sunlight fell in through the only window that wasn’t boarded over, Hawkeye was slowly pacing the calm room, the baby sleeping in his arms.

“Everything is always darkest before the dawn.” He said to the baby, having seen improvements in both her and the other children’s condition. “Just a bit of structure and common sense and everything is better.” He hummed. “Wish the war could be that simple.” He added with a sigh, looking up as one of the sisters came in to the room.

Houlihan, who had been resting for a moment by the tables, sat up and rubbed at her eyes. The sister looked around in the room relief written on her face. “All is well.” She sighed, walking over to Hawkeye and taking the child from his arms.

“Yes sister, All is well and we should be going back.” He said, glancing at Houlihan who looked at her watch and sat up straight in shock. “I’ll make sure you get some powdered milk for this little one, she needs more if she’s going to grow in to a strong man and take over this world one day.” He smiled, getting an annoyed glare from the Major. “Just kidding.”

It took them a while to pack their things and put on their many layers of clothes. Tossing their duffels in to the back of the jeep Houlihan jumped in to the drivers seat. “I’m driving, you haven’t slept all night.” She said, daring him to argue back.

“Fine by me, just don’t hit every pothole in the road. I want to get some shut eye on the way back.” He slumped down in the passenger seat and tugged the coat closer around his thin frame.

Houlihan smirked and had the jeep jump onto the road before hitting every pothole she could find. “Alright! Alright!” Complained Hawkeye, sitting up straight. “You know you don’t have to drive like a car thief.”

“Just keeping you on your toes Captain.” She said, slowing down to avoid a crater in the middle of the road. “Go to sleep. I won’t hit any more holes.” She promised and Hawkeye slumped down again.

The all too familiar sound of shells falling from the sky kept him from going to sleep and he watched the smoke rising from where the bombs hit. “Is it just me or are we moving closer to the danger?” He asked, twisting around to make sure they were going in the right direction.

“I think they have moved the attacks closer to the compound.” Answered Houlihan, flinching as a shell hit close to their position.

“Let’s hope their aim is worse than Franks.” Muttered Hawkeye, getting an elbow in the arm from the Major. He snickered and looked out the front window, seeing a squad of their own soldiers marching along the road. “Slow down a bit and let’s hear the news.” He told Houlihan, who didn’t say anything about him giving her orders.

As they slowed down to drive along the troops, Hawkeye counted fifteen of them. He leant out of the jeep.

“Morning boys!” He called getting an agreeing noise from them. “Say, where are you going?”

“Regrouping sir.” Said one of the young boys. “You sir?” he asked.

“The 4077 MASH.” Answered Hawkeye lifting his eyes to the sky as another shell came awfully close to hitting them. “Nice weather we are having, I thought it would stop raining death by now.”

A snicker went thought the men. Smiling, Hawkeye was about to ask another question when the sound of an incoming shell reached his ears, this time a pitch he hated to hear. Both he and the soldiers turned their heads to the sky. “Take cover!” Shouted one of the officers.

Both Hawkeye and Houlihan were out of the jeep diving for cover in the ditch when the shell hit. Another one followed close after the first and Hawkeye scanned the area for wounded. His eyes landed on a soldier laying on the other side of the road completely still.

As the sound of a third shell coming their way reached his ears, Hawkeye ran across the road to the downed soldier, covering his face with his body as dirt and stones were flung from the point of impact. He blocked out the noise of the attack placing two fingers to the mans neck feeling for a pulse. There was a weak thrum under his fingers and Hawkeye set to it, finding the injuries and packing the heavy bleeding.

Another bomb hit, throwing dust in his face as he used the soldiers belt to tie off his leg, where most of the blood were pouring from. “Stay put soldier.” He said, wanting to pull the man to safety for proper treatment but knowing that he had to take things one step at a time. His ears had already located another wounded man, this one laying in a ditch not to far ahead. Hawkeye ran to him keeping to as many covered parts of the shallow ditch as he could.

This one had a chest wound that was bleeding heavily and it looked like most of his arm had taken the blunt of the blast. Unfortunately the blast hadn’t knocked him out or sent him into shock which was why he was screaming in pain, clutching his shrapnel filled arm. “Hey, take it easy, I’m a doctor.” Said Hawkeye, again using what he had at hand to stem the bleeding and cursing himself for not having grabbed his kit from the jeep before getting out.

The next shell hit further away from them and Hawkeye seized the chance to grab to his kit, getting up on his feet and running towards the jeep. When the sound reached his ears it was already too late, and all he could do was cover his head as the next shell came down near him. He couldn’t see precisely where but the blast sent him flying of the ground, hitting him in the side and knocking the air out of his lungs.

Striking the ground, Hawkeye gave himself a second to draw breath and confirmed that he wasn’t wounded and could still move. The ringing in his ears was a bit of an inconvenience but it would pass.

Reaching the jeep he got the med-kit from the back and stayed hunched down as the next bomb came down. After it hit a few yards away he started running for the guy with the chest wound.

“You're crazy doc.” Said the kid when he came back. Having collected himself a bit from the initial shock of being hit, his body was probably pushing adrenaline and other chemicals into the young mans blood stream and preventing him from feeling exactly how badly of he was.

“You got me there, son. Craziest of them all, which is lucky for you, I might be able to save that arm of yours before we have to take it off.” He said, getting the field bandages from his bag and wrapped them tight around the young mans injuries, hoping it was enough to keep him from bleeding out.

The next shell hit further away and Hawkeye saw Major Houlihan come running over to him. “Are you out of your mind?!” She shouted, offering her hands to keep pressure on the chest wound.

“Very much so.” Quipped Hawkeye, picking up his kit. He ran over to the first hurt man and got a proper dressing over the holes in his legs before scanning the area for more wounded.

Not seeing or hearing anymore soldiers in need of help he turned to one who was laying near them in a ditch. “Hey you, get this man in to the jeep, we're taking him and your friend over there to the 4077.” He said, running back to Houlihan. The bombs were definitely coming down somewhere further away from them. This was their chance to get the injured the fastest medical help they could.

“Major. Let’s get this soldier in to the jeep and get out of here.” He said grabbing the downed but conscious man's arm and flinging it over his shoulder. Houlihan helped with his other arm and together they half carried the man to the jeep where he was put in the back, together with Hawkeye. The other soldier was placed with his foot high in the passenger seat, half conscious. “Get us out of here Major!” Shouted Hawkeye.

The Major fumbled with the ignition but when she got the engine roaring she had them driving along the road at break neck speed, hitting every pothole she could find. Giving the wounded a quick check of their vitals, Hawkeye rummaged around in the back for a moment. “We should call ahead.” Shouted the Major turning to avoid a crater in the middle of the road.

“I’m on it, just keep us on the road please.” Said Hawkeye managing to keep his balance in the back as the Major swerved to avoid another hole. He found the radio he’d been looking for slamming the talk button. “Captain Pierce calling the 4077, come in 4077!” he called in to the thing reaching out for his wounded soldier in the back holding his wrist and feeling for a pulse.

Giving the radio a moment he repeated his call again this time getting an answer. “This is 4077, we read you Hawkeye.” Responded Radar drawing a sigh of relief from both Hawkeye and Houlihan.

“Radar, I got incoming wounded, we are fifteen minutes out, two soldier hit with shells, one’s got a wound to the chest, possible rib fractures and multiple lacerations to the left arm, field dressings applied. The second got shrapnel in the leg, it’s a heavy bleeder, the wound’s been tied off but we don’t have much time.” Reported Hawkeye, knowing that his friends back at camp was going to give the wounded a proper going over once they were there. For now his job was to make sure that they got to the 4077 alive.

“Roger that, two wounded, arm, chest and one leg, eta t-15 minutes.” Said Radar, his military talk much more efficient than Hawkeye’s explanation.

Reaching for the dog-tags under the shirt of the guy in the back Hawkeye squinted at them, “We got one AB positive.” He said turning to the other guy who was getting paler by the minute. “And one B negative. Have the blood standing by when we get there. I don’t care if you have to siphon off from our own, these guys need it.”

“AB positive and B negative, got it. We’ll be waiting for you sir.” Said Radar in to the radio.

“Good. Hawkeye out.” He dropped the radio on the floor and turned to the boy in the passenger seat tearing open his shirt in order to look for another wound. He found it near the hip. Swearing, he pressed down on the wound, his eyes going over to the other, whose eyes were slipping closed. “Come on, I can’t lose you.” He hissed.

The fifteen minutes it took them to get back to the 4077 were among the longest in Hawkeye's life. He managed to keep the two soldiers alive during the ride and when they reached the hospital he was greeted by nurses and the other three doctors. “What happened?” asked BJ helping a couple of orderlies to place the first soldier on a stretcher, taking over putting pressure on the gut wound.

“Incoming rain from our friends, or enemies I guess.” Hawkeye jumped out of the back and was helped getting the second soldier on to a stretcher. He relayed the new information as he followed the patient in to the hospital and turned off at the scrub room, dropping his coat and most of the warm layers before shrugging in to his white scrubs and going over to the wash basin. BJ was already scrubbing up.

“Did you or Houlihan get hit?” he asked glancing at Hawkeye as the man started by washing his face.

“Scrapes and bruises, We hit the ditch and avoided the worst.” Hawkeye said putting on the cap over his black hair before starting scrubbing his own hands. “Sure glad you didn’t volunteer for the orphanage job now right?” he asked.

BJ chuckled. “I’ve had Frank moan over Houlihan for the last 12 hours. Next time I’m coming with you.” Said person came in to the scrub room followed by the Colonel.

“Right boys, you know the drill.” Said the Colonel, walking over to a basin and scrubbing off the blood from pre-op. “Hawkeye, chest wound is yours.”

“Good choice sir,” Quipped Hawkeye his body was practically shaking with adrenaline from the excitement.

“Hunnicutt, you take the arm on same patient.” Continued Potter. “Burns, you take the leg on the other kid while I get the gut wound. Any questions?” he finished rhetorically.

“I have a question sir.” Said Frank, almost lifting his hand as if he was back in school.

“No Frank you can’t change partners, that’s the rules.” Said Hawkeye straightening and taking the towel offer by BJ.

Frank opened his mouth to say something again and BJ cut him off. “And you can’t kill anyone.”

“Or take the leg off, we aren’t having it for dinner.” Added Hawkeye. He and BJ both moved in to the OR as Frank shouted at them to cut it out.

The nurses brought them gowns and tied up their masks as they pulled on the rubber gloves and set to work patching up the wounded soldiers. The x-ray’s of Hawkeye’s soldier showed shrapnel lodged close to his heart and ribs puncturing one lung. What he had to do was pretty straightforward, it was just going to take a lot of concentration and time. BJ’s job was equally taxing, he had an arm full of shrapnel and possible damage to both nerves and blood vessels.

As the minutes ticked by the only sound that cut off the well accustomed work was the clink of metal into a tray, requests for instruments, and Frank shouting at his nurse for handing him the instrument he asked for. The mans yelling was slowly getting to Hawkeye. His head ached and he was already cranky from a sleepless night.

The next time Frank shouted at the nurse for giving him the right tool Hawkeye finally snapped. “Give it a rest Frank, she's giving you the instrument you are asking for!” he shouted across the room.

“There, you see Colonel? He's going off at me again!” Said Frank, turning to Potter for protection.

“Frank, you're digging your own grave!” Shouted Hawkeye, fixing the last stitch to his soldiers lung. All that was left was to fix the rib and close him up.

“That’s rich coming from you. Volunteering to go on dangerous missions and coming back here like the hero. You realize you could have gotten the Major killed!” Frank snapped back.

The growing argument wasn’t helping Hawkeye’s headache one bit and he squinted in the sharp light. “The Major is a grown woman she can make her own decisions, unlike you who have to get your mothers permission for everything! 3,0 silk nurse.”

“YOU leave my Mother out of this!” shouted Frank back.

Hawkeye reached for the offered instrument his hands shaking. “Sorry I meant to say, say…” he shook his head losing track of his thought. That never happened to him, he always knew where he was going with something, even when dead tired.

“What’s wrong? Cat finally got your tongue?” hissed Frank, taking the opportunity to get back at Hawkeye.

“Will you get back to your work Burns, this kid is on our last unit of B negative!” ordered Potter, getting a meek response from Frank. The Colonel turned to Hawkeye who had grabbed the instrument he’d asked for but stared at his shaking hands. “Pierce! What’s up?” he asked.

Shaking his head Hawkeye returned the instrument, it wasn’t the one he needed. He was suppose to fix the broken rib he needed something else, but what he couldn’t remember. The ringing noise in his head was growing louder and his headache seemed to cause the corners of his eyes to fill with shadows. “Pierce!” shouted the Colonel, getting Hawkeye to lift his head to look at him.

Only problem with doing so was the sudden rushing noise in his ears and the darkness that fully enclosed him as the Colonel spoke to him. “Someone catch him!” Shouted BJ, and there was someone there to cushion Hawkeye’s fall. He just didn’t know who.

“Get him on to a table. Frank take over here, Hunnicutt, see what’s wrong with Pierce.” Ordered the Colonel. Hawkeye was partially aware of being lifted up and placed on his back, he was breathing in pants and he could feel unconsciousness trying to pull him under.

“Come on buddy, what did you do?” asked BJ slender fingers pushing the cap of Hawkeye’s head and gently prodded his head and neck. “Okay we got a head wound here. Christ man why didn’t you say anything?”

“He probably wanted to play the hero!” said Frank getting a shouted SHUT UP from everyone else in the room. Darkness enveloped Hawkeye as BJ got his hands on a pair of scissors and started at the layers of clothes that were keeping Hawkeye warm.

 

First thing that came to Hawkeye’s mind was that he would never have another party with Trapper again, the man made him drink far too much. His head was throbbing and he felt like his cot was slowly swaying under him, also someone had tilted it down. He didn’t like it.

Getting his eyes to open up, he groaned and turned his face away from the light stabbing into his irises. Taking a deep breath he winced at the stab in his side. That wasn’t right Had he fallen over something? Lifting his hand Hawkeye pushed the thin fabric of his shirt out of the way and felt another kind of woven cloth under his fingers.

Opening his eyes slightly, Hawkeye squinted around. He wasn’t on his cot in the Swamp but in post-op with an IV digging in to his arm. There were other patients in the room and a nurse who was sitting by a desk at the other end of the room.

Sinking back in to the cot, Hawkeye raked his brain for any information on what had happened. He’d been with Houlihan on a mission to help the orphanage and then they had driven home, the Major hitting every pothole she could find. Hawkeye could remember two wounded men and operating on one of them, but after that he didn’t know anything.

Resting one arm over his eyes to shut out the light, Hawkeye absently rubbed the bandages around his chest. Laying there he took inventory of his body. There was a dull ache to his right side and a deeper one to his chest, the deep breaths hurt so he might have a broken rib or two. His head was pulsing in time with his heart beat and reminded him of some of the worst hangovers he ever had. And he was hungry, so much so that he wouldn’t mind whatever pig food they were serving in the mess.

 _The shelling_ , thought Hawkeye remembering bombs going off around him. There had been one that had exploded right next to him. He must not have felt the injuries because he was high on adrenaline at that point. When things had finally slowed down he had collapsed.

The door to the room opened and Hawkeye lifted his arm to see what was going on. The only man in the whole army that could pull of a flowery knee-length dress and a high heels combined with a rifle and cigar walked over to the nurse who’d been reading a letter. “How goes things?” Asked Klinger.

The nurse sighed and stretched. “A quiet night so far corporal.” She answered. “You wouldn’t mind bringing me a coffee would you?” She asked glancing up at the man who smiled widely.

“Make that two, and a side order of whatever is served in the mess tent.” Added Hawkeye making them both jump.

“You're awake sir.” Said Klinger tiptoeing over to the cot Hawkeye was on.

Pushing himself to sit up a bit Hawkeye gave the man a smile. “I see you couldn’t get out while I was down.” He mused getting a shrug from the corporal.

“There wasn’t any time for that sir. Hey, I’ll get BJ he’s been worried sick over you.” Klinger turned around on one sharp heel and marched to the door.

“Coffee, don’t forget, I am very grumpy in the morning without it.” He called after Klinger who gave him a quick salute before exciting the building. The nurse had come over to Hawkeye’s side, his chart in her hands. “Let me have a look at that.” He said reaching for the chart.

The nurse smiled at him and handed the chart over as she sat at it taking his pulse and blood pressure. Scanning the pages Hawkeye saw that he’d been right in his guess of the injuries. There were a few cracked ribs and BJ had dug out a few pieces of shrapnel that had been lodged in him, nothing major though. They hadn’t managed to penetrate more than his skin and what little fat he had left. It was the concussion that had caused Hawkeye to collapse during surgery and was the reason for his headache. “Don’t suppose anyone kept the fragments they pulled out, I wanna make a necklace out of them and send ‘em back to those idiots who bombed us.”

Handing the chart back to the nurse he watched her scribble something down. He was doing alright which meant that he didn’t have to stay in post-op and take up bed space. Throwing off the blanket Hawkeye swung his feet over the side of the cot and sat up slowly, to the nurse protests. “Hey, sweetheart I’m a doctor, I know what I can do.” He retorted, getting a nervous look from the woman as he dug out his boots from beneath the cot.

He’d gotten his foot in one of the boots when the door opened and BJ walked in, followed by Klinger. The man, not in a dress, grinned widely at him and almost ran the last couple of feet to him. “Christ you scared us all.” He said coming to a halt kneeling beside Hawkeye.

“You and me both,. Hey Klinger what happened to the coffee?” He stomped his foot in to the last boot and was about to stand up when BJ placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Slow down a bit Hawk. You just had your marbles scrambled.” Said the man with gentle concern.

“You don’t say, here I thought a shell knocked me on my head.” Hawkeye gave his friend a soft smile. “Don’t worry, I just want to get out of the light and into my own bed. This one is missing those bumps that give me a backache in the morning.”

They looked each other straight in the eyes before BJ rose, “ If you can walk there on your own I won’t stop you.” Hawkeye nodded and stood up, wobbling as his brain adjusted for the sudden change in altitude. “Congratulations, you past the test for being sober.” Commented BJ.

Taking a deep breath Hawkeye let go of the wall and walked over to the foot of the cot. “You are doing fine sir, another step and you will have broken Radar’s record in walking in heels.”

Deciding that he didn’t want to risk another injury Hawkeye grabbed BJ arm. “Okay, so I might need a hand. Would you mind? I can make it worth your while.”

Laughing, BJ swung Hawkeye’s arm around his shoulders. “Come on, the Swamp is this way.” He smiled giving Hawkeye the support he needed to walk back in to their tent.

“I can offer you some water but no nightcap.” Said BJ, depositing Hawkeye on his cot, where the older man wrapped himself in his robe and blanket. The outside had been cold, even though it was less freezing than the other day.

“Yes, that would be delightful.” Said Hawkeye in a mock British accent. He accepted the glass of water BJ handed him before sinking down in his cot again. He let out a sigh of content. “I am never going to be able to sleep in my own bed when I get home.” He mused, his cot had the perfect tilt and was much harder than his bed at home.

BJ sat down on the chair beside Hawkeye a gin in his hand. “I'll have too, or my wife might divorce me.” The two giggled and Hawkeye closed his eyes.

“I see you in the morning Trapper.” Muttered Hawkeye as he drifted off, not knowing the concerned his new friend was feeling for the mans' mental health.


	2. There are no rules in war.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye is back on his feet after getting blown of them but people can't seem to stop bothering him, stoping him from doing what he want. Well he is Hawkeye Peirce, try stopping him form doing what's right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted to read what happened next so here's part 2.  
> Big thanks for Max who beta read this chapter before it whent up, I trully apriciate the work you do.

The mess tent wasn’t as crowded that morning as Hawkeye expected, most likely because everyone was still asleep or just waking up, if they weren’t going to bed at that moment. It was quite nice getting some actual eggs for breakfast. BJ, having been a beat late, missed out on the eggs.

“Wish they could serve something eatable in here.” Sighed the man, sitting down beside Hawkeye.

“Gives you a reason to get up in the morning.” Mumbled Hawkeye, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

Eyeing Hawkeye’s dinner tray over his coffee mug, BJ sipped the bitter brew. “Hungry this morning I see.”

Finishing his eggs, Hawkeye reached for his own mug of coffee to wash it down with, only to have it swiped out of his reach by BJ. “Hungry and thirsty. Mind giving me that before I get dehydrated?” Hawkeye reached for the mug again.

“Oh no, you know the rules with concussions as well as I do.” BJ pushed a glass of orange juice into Hawkeye’s reaching hand. ~~~~

Rolling his eyes, Hawkeye sipped the juice. “My memory’s a bit foggy. Do remind me of the things I love to do but am not allowed to do for the next couple of days?” He said, lacing his words with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

At that moment the Colonel walked up to them. “Is this seat taken?” He asked and waited for the two to wave him down.

“Please sir have a seat, I was just refreshing Hawkeye’s memories on concussions.” Smiled BJ, getting a tired look from said person who sniffed his stale slice of bread before biting it.

“Ah yes. No alcohol, caffeine, stress, running after nurses, driving or doctoring.” Said the Colonel, stabbing his sausage with the fork before it even got the idea of running away.

“You just listed all the things I’m good at. Give me a break, after the long rest I had I’m more fit to do all of that than you are.” Huffed Hawkeye, dipping the bread in his orange juice to soften it up a bit.

He saw the Colonel and BJ exchange a look. “Your head might be fine Hawk but your body took a beating yesterday.” BJ poked him in the side drawing a sharp intake of breath from Hawkeye. “At the very least wait a day before you start pushing yourself to the brink again.”

Rubbing at his aching ribs, Hawkeye pouted. “Gee mom, I promise I’ll take it easy, just don’t take all the fun away from me or I might go mad and start wearing dresses.”

That drew a smile from his two friends. “Don’t worry, you can still gamble and there’s the conference this evening.” Said Colonel Potter shoving his food into his mouth without tasting it.

“Terrific. Just don’t let me gamble everything away, I need to pay to get my head screwed on right afterwards.” There was a general chuckle and Hawkeye rose. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have half a dusty road in my hair that I want to get out before people start driving over it.” Again he got some chuckles and ' _See you around'_ s from the others as he left.

Dumping off his tray, Hawkeye took the long way to the showers picking up a change of clothes and a towel in the Swamp. Steeping into the foggy shower tent Hawkeye heard the waters running and squinted to see who was in there. “Morning Father.” He greeted the company priest.

“Oh, good morning Hawkeye.” Greeted the Father, squinting at him. “It is good to see you're feeling better, I can’t say how many nurses you scared. Even Frank was worried about you.”

“Likely he was more worried about the dollar I owe him from last week.” Huffed Hawkeye shrugging out of his shirt and the many layers over it.

“Ah, that explains his outburst. How may I ask did you come to owe Major Burns money? He doesn’t gamble at the poker tables with us.” Asked the Father, glancing over at Hawkeye, who’d managed to get out of his t-shirt and was removing the dressings over the stitches. The man drew in a sharp breath and Hawkeye couldn’t blame him. Hell, even he thought the purple bruises were a gruesome sight.

“I had a bet with old Ferretface. Said he couldn’t go one day without complaining to Potter.” Shrugged Hawkeye, as if he hadn’t heard Father Mulcahy’s reaction. Kicking his boots off, he jumped out of his trousers and shorts with some difficulty. He was stiff and the injuries made it painful to bend over.

“I see.” Said the Father, clearing his throat and taking the hint that Hawkeye didn’t want to talk about what had happened the other morning. “And how did he manage to keep from going to the Colonel for a whole day?”

Hawkeye smiled grimly, holding on to the shower stall as he stepped onto the icy planks. “He won on a technicality, giving Margaret all the dirt and letting her go in his place. Wouldn’t you say it’s fascinating how she too got called Ferretface.” Bracing himself for the cold-water, Hawkeye pulled the shower chain and drew a sudden deep breath as it hit his skin. It was an involuntary reaction to the sudden cold, the same one that made people breathe in when they fell into icy water. ~~~~

In short the sudden intake of air sent a jolt of pain up Hawkeye's injured side, and he gripped the show stall harder. “Are you doing alright Hawkeye?” Asked Father Mulcahy, that concerned note in his voice which made him a great priest now aimed at Hawkeye.

Gathering water into his palms, Hawkeye splashed it in his face. “Brr, thought I ordered a hot shower. The room service at this place is awful.” He joked grabbing his soap and hurriedly started scrubbing.

“Oh, Yes the water is awfully cold today.” Agreed the Father. “Major Burns said something about not wasting time and supplies on heating the shower water. I think his reasoning was that, as this is the army, full of strong weather resistant men, it's a waste to heat the water when it’s not frozen.” The Father rinsed out his short hair. “Personally I like the refreshing shower in the morning. Nothing wakes you up quite as good as a bucket of cold water. But I have to say that I wouldn’t mind a warm shower after a long day.”

Sticking his head under the water, Hawkeye rubbed his face, feeling the rough stubble of his growing beard. “I totally agree with you Father. Don’t suppose he himself has to suffer hypothermia just to get clean though?”

Mulcahy hummed for himself as he got out of the stall, wrapping a towel around his waist. “Well, he was in here before me the other day and I can only assume he had a very cold shower.” Said the man thoughtfully. Hawkeye had a growing suspicion that Frank was up to something again. Something that he and BJ might get to backfire in the mans face.

“Well anyhow. I’m off to breakfast, I hope it’s not leftovers again.” Said the Father, rubbing himself dry before bundling up in his many layers of clothes and diving out into the biting cold.

Finishing his own shower quickly, Hawkeye pulled on his clothes and made his way back to the Swamp. The short walk turned his damp hair into ice and he bundled up near the stove in the tent. Putting his feet up, Hawkeye closed his eyes and for a short moment he was content with just sitting there knowing that he didn’t have to do anything.

Then the all to familiar noise of incoming choppers broke the silence and Hawkeye was on his feet before the PR-system could announce them.

“Attention all personal incoming casualties by air and on road, medics to helipad, doctors report to triage. Looks like a big one.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have sat down.” Grumbled Hawkeye, setting off at a light jog towards the bus and the new round of wounded kids. The bus pulled up in front of the hospital just as Hawkeye and Frank reached it. “Another day, another blood bath. Shall we see what we’ve been sent today?”

“If that was your attempt at a joke, it was a poor one.” Huffed Frank, and Hawkeye held the door to the bus open for him.

“I know,” he watched Frank take the two steps into the bus. “Ladies first.” He grinned getting an angry glare from the man.

“I am not going to stand for your horse joke…” began Frank but the rest of his arguments turned into background noise for Hawkeye. He’d turned his focus on the injured and dying who needed him.

They had the worst off taken into pre-op together with Frank when BJ and Potter came down from the chopper pad. “BJ, you scrub up. I’ll be right behind you.” Ordered the Colonel, hurrying over to Hawkeye and his patients. “Didn’t I tell you to keep away from doctoring?” questioned the man, sinking down beside a soldier with a head injury.

“You know I don’t listen to those kinds of orders.” Retorted Hawkeye, rising from a man with superficial wounds. “This one can wait.”

“Good decision Hawkeye. You stay out here and take care of triage and pre-op.” Hawkeye gave the Colonel a lousy wave for him to leave. He hated staying outside, not being allowed to do what he was best at. But he understood why the Colonel didn’t want him in surgery and could agree with one day of what counted as rest in this place.

Turning to his next patient Hawkeye gave the scared boy on the stretcher a smile. “That’s some scratches you have there.” He commented probing the boy’s head for any bumps that could mean a head injury.

“Am I going to live doc?” asked the boy still in shock.

Taking a better look at the injuries, Hawkeye nodded. “We’ll get you better in no time.” He said, giving the boys shoulder a gentle squeeze. He wasn’t that bad off, a few lacerations and broken bones that could wait until the ones who were bleeding out got through surgery.

There was a lull in activity while Hawkeye saw to it that the ones waiting for surgery stayed alive to get it. He was just about to peek in to see how things were going for the others and lighten up the mood a bit, when another bus pulled up with another load of injured soldiers.

“It never rains but it pours.” Sighed Hawkeye, getting up in the bus.

The first kid he reached had sustained a head injury and was pretty much in another world. Second was unfortunately in a world of pain, his gut filled with shrapnel and his stomach torn to shreds. “We need plasma here!” Called Hawkeye, but his words were almost drowned out by a soldier who was flailing and fighting the nurse that was trying to help him.

“Can I get some help here!” shouted the nurse, wrestling with the young man whose neck had disappeared under the tourniquet.

The man shouted something about the north Koreans attacking, how he wasn’t going to let them take him alive. Hawkeye crossed over to the two fighters. “Hey, HEY! Calm down. You're safe now.” He said in his best matter of fact voice.

“No, no, they're coming! They’re coming! I won’t let you take me, I won’t!” shouted the young man his eyes wild. Either he couldn’t see that things weren’t being attacked, or his mind was stuck on the attack that had sent him to the 4077. Hawkeye had dealt with boys coming back from the front in similar conditions and every time he wished Sidney Freedman would have been there to help.

Well, the man was coming to the poker game that evening and Hawkeye might get him to pay this young man a visit. But first he needed to calm him down and assess the injuries. Something that turned out to be easier said than done, seeing as both Hawkeye and the nurse were using all their strength to hold him down and he still managed to land a light kick to Hawkeye’s side. Feeling the blood drain from his face for a moment Hawkeye bit his lip and snarled to the soldier to stay still while he shouted for someone to get him a sedative to calm him down.

That was when the boy turned his head to shout at Hawkeye, only no words came out. He was making a sort of gurgling noise. A crimson flower of blood colored the gauze at the side of the soldiers neck and he stopped fighting the two who were trying to help him and started fighting for air instead.

“Oh no, oh no, Don’t you dare do that!” Growled Hawkeye, peeling back the field dressing at the mans neck and getting an arterial spray of blood on the wall beside them. Seeing the thin handle of the pocket knife stick out of the boy’s neck Hawkeye placed his fingers on both side of the object and clamped down. “We need to get this man into the OR right now!” He shouted sneaking a peek on the tag the field medic had put on him. “Bring me two units of O neg stat, his life is running out between my fingers!”

Two of the orderlies lifted up the stretcher and carried it of the bus, Hawkeye making sure that the boy wasn’t bleeding out. The nurse ran ahead of them into the hospital getting the blood while the three others brought the patient into surgery. “Pardon me for barging in gentlemen, we just got another load of wounded.” Said Hawkeye, following the orderlies to a free table.

“What are you doing in here Peirce?” asked the Colonel, looking up from his work at the other end of the room, his hands deep in a young soldiers gut.

“Nothing, just saving this kid from drowning in his own blood. Nurse, get me a clamp.” He needed to stop the bleeding before he could get in and repair it.

“What have you got there Hawk? Something I could get in on?” Asked BJ, never lifting his eyes from his own work.

“He’s probably just trying to get the record for saving the most lives, not like we can’t keep up with him.” Grumbled Frank getting a sound of agreement from Houlihan.

“Close your yapper Burns. Pierce what’s wrong with that boy?” asked the Colonel watching Hawkeye take the instrument from his nurse and going on feeling clamped down on the artery.

“Pocket-knife in the neck.” Breathed Hawkeye lifting the pressure from around the knife. They all waited for a beat and when the boy didn’t turn blue or die they breathed out.

The nurse came into the surgery with the blood Hawkeye had ordered and came over to his side. “Here you go.” She said hanging the first unit from its hanger.

“Good, get him prepped and watch his breathing, I’m scrubbing in.” Hawkeye stepped away from the table and turned to the scrub-room.

“Hawkeye.” Said the Colonel as he passed him.

“No, Colonel, I can’t just let him die, not when I can save him.” Retorted Hawkeye before the man could say anything. He already knew what army people like him would say and he was not going to make this a lost cause just because he’d been told to stay out of surgery.

Potter leveled his eyes on Hawkeye who was suddenly aware of the fact that the man in front of him was older than his dad, and he’d presumed he could know what he was going to say. “Good catch son. Are there any more triage duties to attend to outside?”

“There’s a bus of more wounded, I didn’t get the chance to look at all of them.” Answered Hawkeye directly. Someone else was going to take care of triage, he had to take care of the neck wound.

“Alright. I’ll give it a quick look as soon as I get my hands out of this boys stomach.” Said the Colonel nodding for Hawkeye to go ahead and scrub in.

 _Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth_ , thought Hawkeye, entering the scrub-room where he shrugged out of his green clothes that had blood stains all over them. He pulled on the white scrubs keeping his scarf wrapped around his neck for warmth. In the minutes it took to scrub up, Hawkeye calmed his racing heart and refocused on the task at hand, saving the boys life.

Entering the OR after having scrubbed, Hawkeye found that the boy had been prepped and a anesthesia nurse had sat down by the head taking readings. Another nurse that had scrubbed was finishing attaching the unit of blood to the boy’s arm. “Hope you made sure that was the right blood, I hate to give him the one that turns you into a vampire.” Joked Hawkeye, putting on a gown and gloves, the mask was already covering his mouth and nose.

There was a slight creasing around the nurses eyes as she smiled but Frank was the one who spoke. “You are revolting, making jokes like that when a man’s life hangs in the balance.”

“Says the ghoul chopping a man's kidney out. Sure you don’t want the liver too, I heard it’s very good on a sandwich?” Retorted Hawkeye, taking his place asking the nurse for scissors to unwrap his bloody gift.

“Funny, I thought that was what they were serving for breakfast the other day. You think Frank is doing a business selling left over human body parts to the cook?” Added BJ, giving Hawkeye a quick look before returning his gaze to the work in front of him.

“Oh! That explains why it always gives me a stomach ache eating the spam. Frank, how could you.” Continued Hawkeye, most of his attention on the work. One wrong move and he might make things worse.

“WILL YOU TWO STOP IT!” shouted Major Houlihan slapping the next instrument a little too hard in the Colonel’s hand. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you leeches were the ones making money like that and then gambling it away!”

Hawkeye drew a mock shocked breath that sent a pang of pain through his injured side, making him halt for a beat. “Major, I am shocked.” He said lifting his twinkling eyes at her, “A proper young woman like you knows about gambling, what sort of devil have you been conspiring with? Sorry Father.” The last he aimed at Father Mulcahy, who was standing vigil over the room as always.

“Oh, no need, I’m selectively deaf to some words.” Said the Father, shaking off the word as if it hadn’t even been uttered.

Houlihan on the other hand didn’t take things so lightly and filled her lungs to shoot back at them. Fortunately the Colonel stopped her. “Stop adding fuel to the fire Major, you can’t win against those two.”

“But sir!” she said, a note of indignation creeping into her voice.

“Zip it.” He ordered and then turned those hard eyes on the rest of them. “All of you. That’s an order.”

“Yes sir!” responded Frank his back straightening as he stomped his foot, trying to stand at attention without lifting his hands from his work.

“Sure thing sir. Suction nurse.” Said BJ, nearly giggling at Frank’s reaction.

“If you say so.” Hawkeye didn’t stop talking though. He only kept the conversation to the table he was working at, flirting with his nurse and driving the head nurse to come over to his table switching out with the nurse.

Major Houlihan was harder to flirt with, she was besotted with Frank after all and more or less gave the rest of them the cold shoulder. But Hawkeye couldn’t help himself from dropping comments every now and again just to keep his mind off the reality around him.

When he had the boy’s neck patched up both he and Houlihan let out a sigh of relief. The orderlies brought the boy over to post-op while Hawkeye walked over to the tray that held the knife he’d taken out of the boy’s neck. He’d had a suspicion when seeing the angle of the thing and hearing the boy’s scared shouting in the bus. The etched initials on the knife confirmed his suspicion and he made a mental note to get Sidney and the boy some time to talk.

After the neck wound there was another kid, this one with a chest wound, and Hawkeye was back at work. He thought Potter was going to send him out after the third patient, but all that happened was Radar taking their orders for lunch and an hour later both he and Klinger walked around the room feeding them sandwiches and orange juice. “Don’t eat the spam, who knows what Frank put in it.” Warned Hawkeye, starting another round of spluttered insults from the man.

When they were all done the four doctors and Houlihan walked into the scrub-room, both BJ and Hawkeye sank down on the bench with a grateful sigh, ignoring Frank’s promise of reporting them. All he was going to report them to was his diary. The Colonel gave Frank the short no to his attempt at getting him to do something. Easy to say, Frank and Houlihan were the first ones to leave the scrub-room.

Sighing Potter rubbed at his ear. “You two better lay off him before my ears starts to bleed. I can’t get his stupid voice out of my head.”

“That might be because he’s right outside still whining.” Groaned BJ, stretching his arms above his head.

“Oh, well then. I’ll make the round through post-op, you two get something to eat before the conference tonight.” He said, rubbing his neck.

“Swell. See you at the tables.” Smiled Hawkeye, peeling of the surgical gown, the cap and mask already gone into the basket.

When the Colonel left BJ, jumped up on his feet and stretched. “Ah, I can’t wait to play you all out of your money.” He said rolling his shoulders.

“Who’s getting whose money here.” Huffed Hawkeye tossing the gown into the basket. The big movement drew another stab of pain from his side and he doubled over for once letting himself show that he was hurting.

“You okay there Hawk?” asked BJ, stopping his stretching to sink down on his heels in front of him.

Letting out a shallow laugh, Hawkeye nodded. “Compared to the boy’s out there I’m great.” He let the easy smile cover the pain on his face.

BJ placed a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder. “Those boy’s out there aren’t my friend Hawk.” He said meeting Hawkeye’s eyes. “Are you in pain? I can get you something for it.”

It took Hawkeye a moment of wrestling with his thoughts to realize that he was trying to act though when he himself would have been just as concerned had their roles been reversed. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Hawkeye relaxed a bit, leaning back against the wall and pulling his hand away from his sticky side. The white scrubs were stained with blood on his right side and had glued itself to his skin. “The kid with the knife in his neck landed a hit when we were trying to calm him down.” He explained. “Thought it would have stopped by now.”

Biting his lip, BJ’s fingers twitched in their need to examine the injuries but he halted himself. “Would you let me?” he asked gesturing at the bloodstains.

“Most people want to buy me a drink before they undress me.” Joked Hawkeye, fluttering his eyelashes. He tugged at the scrubs and the t-shirt underneath it, wincing as something caught on the fabric.

“Here.” Said BJ getting up and grabbing one of the clean towels. He drenched it in the cold water from the wash stands before bringing it over to Hawkeye. “This is cold.” He warned, pressing the towel against Hawkeye’s side, trying to soften up the dried blood so that it wouldn’t stick to the shirt.

“If you keep this up I might have to marry you.” Said Hawkeye, shivering at the slight cold.

Chuckling BJ tugged at the top layer of Hawkeye’s clothes.

“Sorry pal but I’m married.”

“Happily so.” Added Hawkeye, pulling the white shirt off over his head dropping it on the floor. “Well, no one would know you had a mistress in Korea.” He continued.

Rolling his eyes BJ peeled up the green t-shirt, making Hawkeye twitch every time something caught in the fabric.

“I couldn’t possibly do that to my mistress. I’d suggest she try the other guy in our tent, there might be more luck with an adulterer.” He wrinkled his nose at the sight of Hawkeye’s side. “Look at that, you’ve torn my fine work.”

“I rather not look.” Complained Hawkeye having his eyes tightly shut. “Just tell me doc, will I ever laugh again?”

He felt the smile on BJ’s lips more than saw it.

“Don’t know, I have to redo some of this work. Mind stepping into my chamber of horrors?” He pulled the rest of the t-shirt off Hawkeye, leaving him bare to the waist.

“I do mind but I’m not going to stop you.” He opened his eyes and got a good look of his purple side. “Gissh! That’s not going to be popular with the ladies.” He said, standing up and following BJ back into the surgery.

“At least now when they asked about your scars they won’t be from falling of your bike or tripping over yourself.” Retorted BJ, patting a gurney. “Take a seat and let the doctor have a look at you.”

Jumping on to the gurney Hawkeye hid another pained grimace behind his smile. “Only if there’s a lollipop in it, Daddy always gave me one after bandaging my scratches.” He said, acting like an honest child.

“Even better, I give you a little white pill that’ll take the edge of the pain. Lay down.” BJ put on a pair of gloves and got a tray of swabs and the things needed for stitching up skin.

Never missing a beat Hawkeye lay down on his side posing with his arms over his head winking at BJ with half lidded eyes. “Draw me like Sherman paint his French girls.”

BJ couldn’t stop himself from snorting at the pose drawing a snicker from Hawkeye, fun and laughter was the best medicine in the world. “Don’t do that, you don’t want me to accidentally sew your mouth to your elbow would you?”

“That is anatomically impossible, I dare you to try and lick your elbow.” Grinned Hawkeye. He stopped posing though and looked away from his own injuries.

“Not if I break some bones.” Smiled BJ, dabbing at one of the cuts with a swab making it sting a little. “Seriously though, how bad is it on a scale of nothing to losing your mind to pain?” He put down the swab and picked up a needle and silk.

“It’s not that BAAAAaaAaaAAaa-“ BJ had poked the needle into Hawkeye’s skin getting the older man to try and crawl of the table and stay put at the same time. He bit down on his tongue trying to stop the involuntary squirming as BJ sank the needle deeper and deeper.

The torture seemed to go on forever until BJ straightened. “There.” He said plonking down the instrument on the tray.

“Thank God you finished.” Sighed Hawkeye pressing his forehead against the cold table.

“That was the fist stitch, you sure you don’t want a local anesthesia?” Said BJ, picking up another swab.

“Kill me now instead.” Groaned Hawkeye into the table.

BJ didn’t fulfill Hawkeye’s request but gave him a local anesthesia instead that ended up numbing his whole right side from the armpit down to his naval. Tugging on his non bloodstained clothes afterwards he kept poking the light dressing concentrating on the odd sensation. “You keep that up and I’ll have to re-do the work I just re-did.” Warned BJ, pulling on his own coats.

“Can’t help it. It’s like there is nothing there but I can feel it.” He yawned, he was going to take a nap before the poker game.

“Just follow that advice we always gives the men coming through here.” Sighed BJ tucking on his layers.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m making my rounds before heading back to the Swamp, care to join me?” Hawkeye asked, zipping up his coat with one hand and gesturing with the other in the direction of post-op.

“After you.” Nodded BJ who followed Hawkeye into the post-op ward, where some of the first casualties that arrived were just waking up. The two doctors put on their best smiles and made their rounds with light jokes that tickled some people’s funny bone.

Hawkeye had almost reached the end of the ward when a patient called for him. “Hey doc!” Hawkeye pointed to himself with a quizzical look at the young man. “Yeah you, the crazy doc who saved my buddy and me when he should have taken cover from the shelling.”

“You must be confusing me with someone else.” Smiled Hawkeye, recognizing the young man who he’d picked up by the road the other day. “I’m a coward, hides under the table whenever they start dropping those shells.” He picked up the mans chart and plonked himself down on the stool beside him. “How’s the arm?”

Shrugging with his uninjured shoulder the man yawned. “Still attached to me. Hey, I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s all a part of the service here at the 4077 SPLASH.” Hawkeye checked the mans pulse and scanned the chart while they talked.

“Least you can do is tell me your name so I can stop calling you That Crazy Doctor.” Smiled the man his eyes droopy with sleep.

“People calls me Hawkeye.” He patted the mans arm. “Get some rest I’ll be back to check on you later.” The man nodded slowly and Hawkeye didn’t wait for an answer, he got up and hung the chart back on the end of the cot when the man spoke.

“Is Larry okay doc?” He asked one half closed eye on Hawkeye.

“Larry? That’s the guy we brought in with you?” Asked Hawkeye, throwing an eye around the room, looking for a guy with a leg injury.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen him and that no-neck doctor who was in here before said a lot of things but gave me no information.” There was no need to say the name of the doctor the man meant, the description couldn’t be clearer.

His eyes falling on a man on a cot not far from them, Hawkeye nodded in that direction. “He’s two rows down.” He said walking over to the cot, picking up the chart to give it a quick look. “Your friend is doing fine, you’ll both be transferred out of here by tomorrow.  You can catch up on the bus ride, if he isn’t awake before that.” Reassured Hawkeye, the boy had been awake earlier, obviously when his friend was asleep.

“That’s good to hear, thanks doc.” Mumbled the man fighting his own fatigue. Yawning in sympathy with him, Hawkeye finished his rounds before he and BJ left for the Swamp.

Walking across the compound they saw Frank make his way towards the showers, wearing his bathrobe and carrying a bucket. “What do you think that’s about?” asked BJ, holding up the door to the Swamp for Hawkeye.

“I have my suspicions.” Mussed Hawkeye sinking down on his cot. “And maybe a little prank to play one our dear Frank, next time he decides to take a shower.”

“I’m interested. Please go on.” Said BJ sitting down in front of the stove.

“Later. I want to get some rest, call me when the poker game begins.” Muttered Hawkeye into his pillow, already drifting off to sleep, just like the soldier in post-op.

BJ waited a moment before he was sure Hawkeye was asleep and then checked his watch. “Damn, one more hour and I would have won the bet.” He swore getting up from his seat. “Sorry Hawk but you need the rest.” He said putting another blanket over his friend.

 

It wasn’t the noise from the camp that roused Hawkeye later that evening but Frank tripping over his boots and slamming into his desk, making it sound like there was a burglary in progress.

“What? What!?” yelled Hawkeye squinting around the darkened tent. He saw Frank hurriedly getting to his feet. “Frank, have you any idea what time it is?” Groaned Hawkeye, rubbing at his face.

“Of course I have, what are you doing sleeping in here?” Huffed Frank, picking up his copy of the military rules that had fallen down.

“You have to be a bit more specific and untangle your shoe laces before you join the boys in post-op.” mumbled Hawkeye, looking around his cot for his own boots, finding them still on his feet.

Frank looked down at his boots and saw the shoe laces he’d managed to tangle together in his haste to tie them. “Shouldn’t you be in the Officers club playing poker with those other brainless nitwits?”

It took Hawkeye a moment to register what Frank had said and another to find his watch. “Would you look at that, someone moved time forward.” He pushed himself up feeling a twinge of protest from his ribs as he did. Say hi to the Major for me.” Smiled Hawkeye, grabbing his hat and leaving the tent to Frank's sputtering.

Finding the others gathered around a table in the Officers club, Hawkeye was greeted with smiles and an offer of a beer from Sidney. “Don’t get the wrong idea Hawk, it’s your money that’s welcome.” Grinned BJ.

“That’s nice. Thank you Sidney I’ll take that beer.” He got a reproachful look from Potter and BJ but ignored it. One small beer wasn’t going to hurt, it was weak enough that Radar could drink it and not get drunk on the first bottle. “What are we playing?” he asked, sitting down between Potter and Sidney.

“The usual, jokers are wild and two's are high.” Responded Klinger, who wore a flowing evening dress with matching laced gloves. “Buy-in’s a dollar.”

Digging out his money from his pockets, Hawkeye slapped a dollar on the table. “Deal me in.” He smiled, looking forward to a good game.

And a good game it was. Hawkeye didn’t walk away with much more than he came in with, the Father having taken most of the winnings that evening, but he was definitely in a better mood having gotten a few drinks in and a few hours without the constant worry or fear of the war pressing in on him.

When Sidney said his goodbyes for the evening, Hawkeye too cashed out and joined his friend. “Is there something you want to talk about or are you just enjoying the evening like me?” Asked the psychiatrist, tugging his coat tight around his thin frame.

“I thought I'd clear my head with some iced air.” Smiled Hawkeye, watching his breath turn into mist as soon as it left his mouth. “And ask if you could have a talk to one of the patients while you are here.”

“Oh? What seems to be the problem?” Asked Sidney, as always willing to help.

They turned towards the post-op ward. “Call it a hunch but I just dug the man’s pocket knife out of his own neck this morning, and the angle of it suggested that it was self-inflicted.” Sighed Hawkeye. He always hated it when they got men who tried to kill themselves.

“You sure it wasn’t something else that drove the knife into his neck?” asked Sidney, trying to get all the facts straight before talking to the boy.

“Slim possibility Sid.” Shrugged Hawkeye. “If nothing else the boy was terrified when he arrived here, might help to talk to you about it.” Sidney nodded as the two entered the post-op.

They walked over to the young mans bed, Hawkeye picked up his chart and scanned the nurses notes before handing it over to Sidney. Sitting down beside the boy he accidentally jarred him awake. “Hey there, take it easy. You remember me? I’m the doctor who operated on you.” Said Hawkeye talking in a hushed voice so as not to wake the rest of the people.

“Don’t remember.” Croaked the boy, his voice scarcely audible.

“That’s alright, you were pretty out of it when you arrived. How are you feeling?” asked Hawkeye, his fingers pressing at the mans wrist taking his pulse.

“Throat hurts.” Croaked the boy.

“Figures, we had to fix a broken artery there. Don’t worry though, you’ll be back to your old self in a couple of weeks.” He smiled glancing up at Sidney. “Hey, let me introduce you to a friend of mine, Dr Sidney Freedman.”

At the mention of his name Sidney moved forward and offered his hand to shake. “Hello, I’m a psychiatrist. I thought we could talk if you are up for it?” Sidney and Hawkeye changed seats so that the shrink was by the boy’s side.

Staying in the background as the two talked, Hawkeye made his rounds and gave the nurse on duty a moment of his time, which she turned down. As Sidney got up, promising the young man they’d talk more when he got to Seoul, Hawkeye wrapped himself in his coat again and nodded for Sidney to join him outside.

“What do you think?” he asked when they were out in the cold.

“I think that you were right in suggesting I talk to him. I also think the young man in there is unfit to be a soldier. He might be going home once he’s better instead of up to the front.” Sidney’s words were like music to Hawkeye’s ears and a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. This boy wasn’t going back to the front to be killed some months later.

“That's good to hear Sid.” He smiled and they started walking. “You want to come into the Swamp? The drinks are on me.”

“Well.” Hummed Sidney thoughtfully. “One drink for the night.” He agreed.

One drink turned into two, with BJ joining them it turned into a dussin and a merry round of midnight poker. Sidney never made it to his cot in the VIP tent that night, Hawkeye was too cross-eyed by the time Sidney collapsed on to the free cot in the corner of the tent that he himself didn’t see the world turn around on him before he was half slouched down in the chair laughing at BJ. The man tried to get Sidney all the way on to the cot but all he managed to do was take the half Sidney wasn’t sleeping on for himself.

Unfortunately, they all had a hangover the next morning, cured slightly by the biting cold and strong coffee in the mess tent. The food in front of them was more likely to crawl away than get eaten. The only thing that made the headache worth it was the little bit of shenanigans the three had managed to get up to in the small hours with Franks bucket. The result of which could be heard throughout the camp that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one shot will be Hawkeye's first day at the 4077. After that I'm open to suggestions.


	3. Welcom to the 4077th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at the 4077th, Hawkeye didn’t know what he’d expected. Appalling surgical conditions where infections were more common than not was certainly not what his draft board promised him. Then again, they hadn’t said anything a friend ether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again big thanks to Max for beta reading, you do a great and wonderfull job.  
> I don't have anymore one-shots planed after this but I'd like to continue writing MASH fanfics, so feel free to drop surgestions, I'm up for moste of it.

Fresh brisk air rushed through Hawkeye’s short hair, doing wonders for his hangover if not for his mood. He’d arrived in Korea the day before and managed to slip past his escorts outside the officers club at the base in Kimpo. Unfortunately, the MP’s had dragged him out from under the bar that morning and stuck him in a jeep, leaving Hawkeye to do the only thing he could. That is to say, drive them nuts with his monologuing, which wouldn’t be monologuing if the MP’s would only respond in some way.

He had almost talked for two hours when they were passed by a second jeep, heading for the same camp they could see at the crossroad ahead.

“Would you look at that? Someone else is in a hurry as well. Don’t suppose that’s someone who wants to get there faster than you two. I mean you’ve had your foot down so hard on the gas all the way here that my hair is getting whiplash.” The driver stomped down harder on the gas and Hawkeye was nearly flung out of the jeep.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” He shouted, grabbing onto his seat, the metal circles around his wrist pinching his skin. “Now if we could only avoid those rocks and potholes as we make a U turn we can go back to civilization.” No comments, that was alright. He could keep talking. “You guys see that we are going closer to the front? That’s were all the danger is if you hadn’t noticed it. Safety and the next plane to the states is back the way we came. As is a warm bed, apple-pie, steak and booze. Don’t tell me the army's taken that from you already, together with your sense of humor. I tell you the last time I met someone who didn’t laugh at one of my jokes he was six feet under, and I swear his ghost was snickering.”

The jeep roared in to the compound, tents were strewn around the area with one semi-permanent tin building standing taller than them all, a red cross painted on its roof. Once more Hawkeye had to hold on for his life as the driver of the jeep pulled the brakes and had the jeep sliding across the gravel, coming to a halt beside the other that had just parked outside the tin building. An MP tugging their passenger out of the back.

“Are you people crazy! Can’t you see that we're parked here!” Yelled the short, long nosed man jumping out of the jeep. Hawkeye noticed that the man too wore cuffs around his wrists and was dressed in the same class A uniform as he was, minus a couple of stripes and bars.

“A sane person might think these guys wants to kill you.” Huffed Hawkeye grudgingly getting out of the jeep. Who knew if the MP’s might decide to stage a car accident with him still in the car.

“A sane person wouldn’t be in Korea right now and definitely not three miles from the front.” Complained the short man being dragged in ahead of Hawkeye. “I am supposed to be at home in Toledo with uncle Murray, watching the chicken fights and taking bets.”

“I hear you, my martini is getting warm at home while I’m getting cold out here.” Sighed Hawkeye.

They shuffled in to a small office with a radio in one corner, a couple of filing cabinets in another and a bunk in a third, a young man in the simpler green army uniform was sitting by the desk his ear pressed to a phone.

“Can you just look up in your files where they’ve gone Sparky, I have Colonel Blake breathing down my neck because we don’t have enough nurses and doctors to keep up with all the wounded the Chinese are sending us. I know we got three Doctor Sparky, other Mash units have ten and even they complain!” His voice rose an octave in that way kids going through puberty would, it made Hawkeye sick. The army had taken a kid barely old enough to shave and put him closer to danger than he should ever be. “Just get it done Sparky!” he shoved the phone back in the bag hanging up the call.

Seeing as the clerk was finished on the phone one of the MP’s cleared his throat making the young man jump. Both Hawkeye and the other man looked at each other. “Kids barely out of training wheels, have we’ve been sent to the army daycare or something?” He asked in a hushed voice.

The MP’s ignored their captives.

“You the company clerk Corporal?” Asked the more talkative of the men.

“Yes sir.” Replied the little clerk, throwing an army regulation salute.

“Where’s your CO? We’ve got one corpsman and a doctor he sent for.” Said the MP and Hawkeye waggled his fingers to the little guy in greeting.

“He’s the doctor, I'm the corpsman.” Explained Hawkeye, pointing to his fellow captive.

The man caught on quick, he grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Yes, if you need someone to chop of a limb I’m your man, can even double as a cook if you need one.”

The little Corporal giggled, his smile something innocent that the war surely was going to steal from him. “That’s funny sir, I can see the spear thing on your collar that all the doctors wears.”

“Rats!  Outsmarted by my own clothes.” Snapped Hawkeye, drawing a short laugh from the corpsman beside him.

“Corporal! Where’s your Co?” Asked the MP, straining to stay calm. Hawkeye had been trying the mans patience long enough.

“Oh right, have you tried the mess tent? If he’s not there, then maybe he’s in his own tent or down by the river fishing.” Said the clerk helpfully.

Hawkeye could practically take the MP’s pulse by looking at the vein throbbing in the mans neck. “Then go and get him!” He barked, getting the young Corporal to scurry out of the room.

“There was no need to shout at the boy, he was only trying to help.” Sighed Hawkeye, not approving of the way the army seemed to think that shouting was a good way to get things done faster.

“Shut your yapper and get in there.” Huffed the MP shoving them both in the direction of one of the double doors that another held open. A third one followed them in and stopped at the door preventing them both from escaping.

“Anyone else got the feeling like we are prisoners?” Asked Hawkeye, walking over to the desk and sitting down on it. There was a picture of a woman with two young girls. Around the walls there were crayon drawings, filing-cabinets and glass-cabinets, one in particular was filled with liquor bottles and another was almost hide behind fishing gear.

“Nah, being a prisoner is much worse than this. There are no bars keeping you from the rest of the world. Bet I could jump out the window and have a good head start to make it out of camp.” Smiled the short guy, peeking through the dirty windows.

“Step away from the window Corporal.” Ordered the MP his hand resting on his side arms.

“Okay, okay, relax.” The man leaned against the desk beside Hawkeye. “Hey I’m Maxwell Q Klinger, from Toledo Ohio. And you sir?” Klinger offered his hand to Hawkeye.

“Not a sir. These monkeys put the bars on me together with the dog collar and leash.” He tugged at the cuffs before taking Klinger’s hand. “Benjamin Franklin Pierce. But call me Hawkeye.”

“Hawkeye? That’s an odd nickname. You got perfect sight or something?” Asked Klinger letting go of Hawkeye’s hand.

Chuckling Hawkeye shook his head. “I don’t know about that, my father calls me Hawkeye because of his favorite character in the only book he ever read.”

“Which one was that? A comic?” Asked Klinger, fiddling with his cuffs.

“ _The Last of the Mohicans_. You’ve read it?” They were basically making small talk waiting for the next boot to fall on their miserable lives.

“Can’t say that I have.” He lifted his hands to click the cuffs together. “Say what did you do to earn this kind of jewelry?”

Hawkeye scratched his chin, laughing lightly. He needed a shave. “A story for a story, what did you do? My only crime is being me and drunk.”

“Fair enough.” Smiled Klinger. “You see it all started when I got that damned letter drafting me for the army. I tell you, I would have shot my big toe off hadn’t it been faster than the bullet I put in the gun. Then I ran from them when they came for me and I’ve tried running away every time they looked away. I tried but as you can see I didn’t get far. But don’t worry I’ve got a plan. I'm getting a section 8 and being shipped home.”

Hawkeye frowned. He wasn’t that well-read up about military things but thought he knew what a section 8 was.

“You want to be mentally unfit for the army?” He said and hearing the words come out of his mouth he wondered if it wasn’t such a bad idea. “You’ll have to be crazy to get out that way.”

The grin spread across Klinger's face, his eyes twinkling, making Hawkeye wonder if he really wasn’t crazy. “What makes you think I’m not? Haven’t I tried to run away enough times to show that I am a complete lunatic?”

“Write me when you get back to the states.” Smiled Hawkeye. The two heard people speaking outside the office and exchanged a look.

The door opened and for someone who didn’t want to be in the army Klinger was fast to stand at attention and throw a salute, that was surprisingly sharp considering the handcuffs.

“So these are the new men. Thank you for bringing them to us.” Said a Colonel who was wearing a fishing vest over his army fatigues and a fishing hat filled with lures.

“If you would sign these please.” Said one of the MPs, holding out two pieces of paper.

“Oh, eh, yes.” The man said, absent-mindedly accepting the pen Hawkeye handed him. “Thanks.” He scribbled his signature on the papers. He hadn’t even finished writing his name before the papers were snatched away from him and the MPs ran out faster than a speeding bullet.

“Oh boy, why’re they in such a hurry?” Asked the little clerk walking past the Colonel. “At least they left the keys to the cuffs.”

“Radar did they leave the keys…” began the Colonel, then stopped, looking big eyed at the clerk who walked up to Klinger. “How many times have I told you not to do that Radar? Have you got their papers?”

The little Corporal held out two folders to the Colonel while fiddling with the cuffs and the keys.

“Oh thanks.” The Colonel smiled and started flipping through the first file before a thought hit him and he looked up at the Corporal, curiously named Radar. “Wait a minute. You did it again.”

“Did what again sir?” Asked Radar, getting the cuffs of Klinger before turning to Hawkeye.

“You…You.” The Colonel shook his head. “Don’t do that before I asked you to.” The Colonel sighed, returning his attention to the file.

“Say, are you a mind reader? That’s why they call you Radar? What number am I thinking of?” inquired Hawkeye as Radar moved over to un-cuff him.

“Oh no I’m not.” Radar blushed lightly looking down. “I can just anticipate very well. And I have good hearing as well, I can tell when the choppers come in before others. That’s why they call me Radar. Oh! My name's Walter by the way. Walter O’Reilly.” He shook Hawkeye’s newly freed hand before he remembered the bars on the uniform. “Oh sorry, I mean sir.” He said, saluting him instead.

“Don’t do that. I much prefer a handshake than having people try and smack themselves on the head.” He said, rubbing his wrists to return circulation to his hands.

“Oh, yes.” Smiled Radar, and as if he could read the Colonels mind he spoke at the same time as he. “I’ll show Corporal Klinger to his tent and get Captain Pierce's things in to the surgeons tent. And I’ll get you those x-ray you wanted.”

The three men stared at Radar as the young man walked out of the office. He ducked his head back in. “Well, are you coming?” He said, waving to Klinger to follow him.

Klinger gave them a confused look before hurrying after the little clerk.

The Colonel sighed as he walked around the desk to sit down. “You won’t believe how long we’ve waited for another cutter to get here. Can I ask what took you so long? We requested another one two weeks ago.”

Hawkeye shrugged.

“The draft board had to fish me out of a bar a few of times. A ladies bed once.” That drew a chuckle from the Colonel, who pulled out a drawer.

“Then you wouldn’t mind a drink, would you?” He said, placing two glasses on the table.

“Not when every drink might be my last.” Grinned Hawkeye, seeing the man take out a bottle half full of the amber nectar that let men forget where they were, and if possible who they were.

Pouring them each a glass, the man spoke. “I guess you aren’t to happy about being here?”

Hawkeye huffed. “Let’s just say that patching up kids that’s been hit by mortar shells and bullets wasn’t the action I wanted after my residence.” They took a glass each and raised it. “May this hell end.” Said Hawkeye throwing back the liquor.

“Amen.” Agreed the Colonel his own glass disappearing in one gulp. They were quiet for a moment, savoring the burning sweet taste of the booze as it traveled down their throats and warmed their bellies. “Well I’m sorry to hear that you don’t like it here in Korea. But then half the camp hates it here so far and would practically do anything to get out, including me.”

A dry smile tugged at Hawkeye’s lips.

“Then it’s going to be really hard to be original in ones plans to get out.” He noted glancing at the file on the table. It was his and most of it was pure fiction, a result of his inability to give straight answers.

“You bet your ass you have to.” The Colonel stood up. “Well anyhow. Let me show you around our operations before we start an operation.” He chuckled at his own joke and Hawkeye joined in out of sympathy. Not everyone could crack jokes like him.

“For starters, this is my office as you can see by my name on the desk. Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake. I’m a surgeon as well and not regular military in case you were wondering.” He waved at Hawkeye to follow, going back out to the clerk’s office. “This is our communication hub, Radar is in charge of most of this stuff, that’s his bunk there.” He waved at the neatly made cot. “Through those doors you have post-op. I’ll show you in there later, come on this way.

They turned in to a narrow corridor. “You have the lab and emergency supplies in here.” Blake pointed to a door to the right. “This here is the scrub room.” He opened the door and waved Hawkeye in. The scrub room was divided by a curtain in to a changing area and a scrubbing station made out of a oil drum cut in half and painted white.

“What happened, did the army run out of khaki green for the scrub station?” Asked Hawkeye, seeing the smile tugged at the Colonel’s lips.

“Oh that. No they sent us this tiny thing and it was always a fight for everyone to scrub in. I think the motor pool engineer Rizzo cut that up for us during his productive hours.” Said Blake, bobbing on his heels “Any ways, through here is where we’ll be spending most of our waking hours.” The Colonel pushed the door opened and Hawkeye went in. “The OR.” Announced the Colonel.

It was nothing like the modern OR’s Hawkeye had been working in during his residency. And what did he expect, the latest in technology when the motor pool engineer had been the one to fix them the sinks for scrubbing? The walls were sheets of plywood painted white, the floorboards creaked but the beams holding up the roof looked thankfully sturdy. There were four operations tables with matching tanks of gas for sedating patients and shelves along one wall where the surgical instruments were stored, together with a fridge where blood and plasma would be stored.

“I know it’s nothing modern like they have back home, but you’d be surprised at how well it works.” Smiled the Colonel, unaware of Hawkeye’s surprise that any kind of sterile environment could be achieved in these conditions. “Come, through here is pre-op and radiology. We only have one x-ray, but it has yet to fail us and the nurses are great at developing the images.”

“Of themselves or the patients?” Asked Hawkeye following the man through the OR and in to a corridor where one door led to the pre-op ward and another to a tiny room with an x-ray parked in the back.

The Colonel chuckled.

“Don’t we wish.” They walked through a door and Hawkeye found himself outside the building. There were a few men throwing a football across the compound and a couple of nurses sitting on some boxes cheering the men on. “Let’s see, we’ve got the officers latrine over there, the showers over in that tent there, you got the mess tent there, the big one with the cross painted on the roof. Over there’s-“

“Watch out!” shouted one of the men and Hawkeye looked up in time to catch the football before it knocked the air out of him.

“Can’t you guys watch where you are throwing that thing.” Sighed Blake, as a curly haired man with a crooked grin came running up to them. Hawkeye could see the recognition in the mans eyes at the same time as he himself recognized the grin. “Captain McIntyre, this is-“

“Hawkeye Pierce. I don’t believe it.” Grinned the curtly haired man, his smile going from ear to ear as the two friends embraced each other in a bone crushing hug.

“My God, he trapped me Trapper. What are you doing in this wasteland?” Laughed Hawkeye letting go of his friend to look at him through half lidded eyes. “I could kiss you, you're an eye for sore sight.”

“You too.” Retorted Trapper and without a care in the world pressed his lips to Hawkeye’s, dipping him like one of the many girls he used to make out with.

“Oh boy.” Said Blake looking away from the two, were as the girls and other men were whistling and cat calling them. “Um…em… could you… I mean I’d not.” The two were making out, fully relishing in the Colonel’s embarrassment and the attention. “Could you just…I mean… cut it out already, there are ladies present.”

Trapper broke of the kiss and the two exchanged mischievous looks. “You hear that pal? There are ladies present.”

“I heard. Have you trapped them all already or did you leave some for me?” Hawkeye gave the Colonel a wink before straightening with Trappers help. “How have you been?” He asked as if their kiss hasn’t taken place, it wasn’t like they had meant anything by it, it was just their way of having fun.

“Oh you know. Finished medical school, got married, got drafted and shipped here.” He shrugged. “Found some lovely nurses to warm my bed while I’m here. How about you, still catching my passes I see?” Trapper took the ball from Hawkeye and turned around to throw it at the other men.

“Well you keep aiming for me so I have to catch them.” Smiled Hawkeye, winking at one of the nurses who was looking his way. “I was drafted right after finishing my residency. I’ve been kicking and screaming the whole time those military goons were dragging me here. Oh and if you dip me like that again I’m going to charge the back operation to you.” He stretched his back wishing the army knew what lumbar support was.

“I see that you two already know each other. He he. You played football?” Asked the Colonel trying to get over his embarrassment.

“I was the one who played college football, this doofus was in the audience with a date and caught my Hail Mary. He said that was the closest he ever came to playing sports, I bet you failed calisthenics.” Huffed Trapper swinging an arm around Hawkeye’s shoulders.

“With flying colors. And you stole my date during that game.” He jabbed his elbow in Trappers ribs.

“And you stole the captain of the cheerleaders during the after party. I tell you it took her weeks to get over you. Our captain wanted to strangle you if he ever figured out who Hawkeye was.” Chuckled Trapper returning the friendly jab.

“I would have forgotten her sooner but she left a lasting impression on my pillow.” Their laughter grew as the two friends reminisced.

“Wow, sounds like you two have known each other for a long time.” Chuckled Blake making that nervous bobbing on his feet again.

“More like known of each other. I only meet this guy that one time, the rest is his reputation.” Said Trapper before turning back to Hawkeye. “Say did you really get the whole gymnastics team to go AWOL during the finals?”

“No, I couldn’t handle that many.” Replied Hawkeye getting a relived look from the Colonel and a disappointed on from Trapper. “My buddy Jeffrey took half of them and I took the rest.” Trapper broke down laughing and even Blake smiled. “Piece of advice thou, you need to warm up before hand, those girls can really move.” Even the Colonel laughed at that. “Hey, is it true you occupied a flight attendant from Los Angeles to New York?”

At that Trapper sobered up. “Course not, we had to stop in Chicago to refuel.” They all broke down laughing. When Trapper got his breath back he clapped Hawkeye on the shoulder. “Man, we need to catch up. Last I heard of you, three nurses had just transferred from Boston General.”

“Last I heard of you I caught one of your exes on the rebound.” He shook his head. “Best sex I’ve had till this day.”

“Buy you lunch and tell you about it.” He nodded to the mess tent.

“Dressed like this? I would stick out like green newcomer in a camp of green boys.” Hawkeye tugged at his uniform, it was stiffer than he liked.

“Ah yes you do look like a Captain in this.” Trapper straighten Hawkeye’s uniform brushing some dust from his shoulder. “You in our tent?” He asked looking at Blake.

“Oh yes. Surgeons tent.” Smiled the Colonel.

“Great. This way Hawk.” Trapper tugged Hawkeye in the direction of a tent close to the hospital building with the navigation posted outside of it. “After you.” Said Trapper holding the tent door open.

“Why thank you.” Smiled Hawkeye entering the tent. It was bigger than he’d expected, held four cots, one in each corner with matching desks and small make shifts shelves. Beside the pole holding up the tent roof was a tiny stove. “Cozy. You get many visitors?”

“We just got the roof over this place, a house warming party has yet to be planed. You want this bunk or the one over in that corner?” Asked Trapper walking over to a cot in the inner right corner that looked well slept in, compared to the others that even had hospital corners. Hawkeye’s bags were already placed in the middle of the tent.

“I take the one closest to the door. Easier to run away from here.” He said, sitting down on that bunk, pulling over the bags to his corner

“Good choice. Just watch out for the guy sleeping over there. His name is Frank Burns and he's a stickler for army rules.” He said, laying down on the bunk.

“You don’t say.” Leered Hawkeye getting out of his uniform. He’d slept in it the night before and it could use a wash before he put it on again. Which would be when he was discharged, so never with his rotten luck. He tossed the jacket and cap on the floor followed by the pants before digging out the army issued olive green pants and shirt. “I got to ask dad to send me my Hawaiian shirts, my skin clashes with my army stuff.”

“I asked my wife to send me my bath robe, she sent me her robe.”  Retorted Trapper. Hawkeye giggled at the mental picture of Trapper in a robe that showed off his legs and hid nothing. “You got any booze with you? This place is dry until we get supplies from our loved ones, and then it’s more likely to get stolen before it reaches your lips.”

Tugging on the pants Hawkeye shook his head.

“I drank everything on my way here and then drank a psychiatrist under the table at the last bar I got to yesterday.” Confessed Hawkeye remembering the nice talk he’d had with Dr Freedman. It had been lots of fun and Hawkeye was pretty sure the psychiatrist had said he would have lost his head if it wasn’t attached to his wisecracks.

“Darn it. You’ve got any skill in beer brewing?” Asked Trapper tugging at a lose thread in his mattress. “My grandpa used to make his own in the garage but he forgot to show me how.”

“No, but I remember my chemistry classes. Or rather the one I didn’t sleep through. Might make a gin distillery. A basic hospital like this should have what one need. You have to build it though, I’m a disaster with machines.” Said Hawkeye, pulling out the belt from his dress pants.

“Me! All I know is how to sew flesh back together, the closest I get to engineering is when I pick out the pieces of a jeep from a kid’s gut.” Complained Trapper laying down on his back. “Maybe we can build it together. With our luck it will be finished by the time this war ends.”

Shrugging on his shirt, Hawkeye nodded.

“At least we’ll have booze to the party then.” He said, standing up. “Shall we get some food before the line grows to long?” He grinned more comfortable without the metal on his collars.

“There’s no chance of that, as soon as people smell the food around here they run for the hills.” Grinned Trapper, getting up.

He was right of course. The food could have been edible in world war one. Hawkeye had never seen pork chops that were green before or peas that were red, nor had he ever drunk coffee that was thicker than the mashed potatoes.

“I think someone put the wrong label on this.” He told Trapper as they sat down at an empty table. “This isn’t food, it’s what you find in a dumpster that’s never been emptied.”

That drew an agreeing chuckle from Trapper and the two fell back on their previous conversation, catching up on everything that had happened in their lives after they met. Trapper as mentioned earlier was married with two wonderful girls, which didn’t stop him from enjoy the women in camp, there were only two. He’d finished his residency a year earlier and been drafted as soon as the US decided to get involved in the Korean conflict.

Hawkeye’s own story differed in that he was still a bachelor and was dragged to Korea before getting the job at the big general hospital that he’d wanted.

“I’m telling you, all I wanted was to sit down with a glass of whiskey at the end of a day at work, without any politicians in it.” He huffed doing his best to swallow his mouthful without tasting it.

A man with no neck and weasel like face walked up to them.

“This seat taken McIntyre?” he asked, his beady little eyes glaring at the two of them.

“Seat yourself down Burns and let me introduce an old friend of mine.” Said Trapper through a mouthful of peas. “This is Benjamin Franklin Pierce, surgeon. He’s our new bunk buddy. Hawkeye, this is Frank Burns”

“How nice.” Sneered Frank before clearing his throat. “McIntyre, aren’t you forgetting something.” Said the Major, still standing beside the table as if the invitation to sit down hadn’t been enough.

“Oh that’s right.” Smiled Trapper, shoving over to give Frank a spot to sit on.

The man only scowled at them.

“You are supposed to stand at attention and salute a superior officer when he addresses you. Failure to comply will result in reports being filed and that’ll stay on your record.” Preached the man.

“Just sit down. You make me sick to my stomach with this army talk.” Sighed Hawkeye no longer hungry, he was just pushing the food around in his tray.

“That’s not how it’s done in the army.” Whined Frank sitting down beside Trapper.

“Frank! We are draftees! We aren’t regular army like you.” Groaned Trapper.

“Still isn’t a reason to forget protocol.” Huffed Frank digging in to his food. “So where are you from?”

They fell in to a conversation in which Hawkeye learned that Frank was married to the army as well as a woman, he loved to talk about his success, though reading Trappers expressions it was clear that the he was trying to make himself better than he was. The more they talked, the less Hawkeye liked Frank. He and Trapper tended to tell jokes and make innuendos at Franks stories that he completely missed.

When Hawkeye was about to go on Franks nerves, the little clerk Radar walked into the mess tent and said in a surprisingly commanding voice,

“We got choppers incoming.” He walked up to the serving line and grabbed two pieces of stale bread and slapped the brown soggy stuff between the slices, stuffing it in his mouth before leaving.

Everyone in the tent stared after the little man before returning to their food and conversation.

“Does he do that often?” Asked Hawkeye, testing the coffee once more.

“I wouldn’t know, he’s only been here three days.” Shrugged Trapper and at the same time they could all hear the unmistakable sound of choppers approaching.

There was a sharp squeal over the camps PA-system before they could hear Radar’s voice over it.

“Attention all personal! We got incoming wounded by air and road. Doctors report to the helipad for triage. Also whoever stole Nurse Jackson’s dress uniform please return it to her before the end of the shift. That is all.”

Everyone in the tent heading for their stations before Radar finished his announcement.

“Follow me, well catch a ride up.” Said Trapper. Both he and Hawkeye left their trays and ran towards an ambulance, catching it just as a corpsman started the engine.

“Never a dull moment around here is it?” grimaced Hawkeye as the ambulance speed up to the helipad, his stomach twisting in to knots. When he said he wanted more action in his work, being shipped to a MASH in Korea was never on the list.

“The only thing dull around here are the scalpels in OR.” Responded Trapper, ambulance reached the top of the flattened hill where the helicopter was coming in for a landing. They waited until the helicopter was on the ground before they ran up to it. Reaching the carrier one of the wounded was on Hawkeye gave him all his attention long enough to see that time was running out for him in to a pool of red on the stretcher.

“We need plasma over here and pressure. Trapper how’s yours?” Shouted Hawkeye using his own hands to put pressure on the wounds, plural. The man looked like he’d lost a fight with a tiger.

“Burned and half drowned. We’ve got to get him stable before surgery.” Announced Trapper and the corpsmen who’d come up with them helped lift the two injured men in to the ambulance, but not before the pilot had told them that he had to go back and pick up more wounded.

Down in front of the hospital Frank and Blake were sorting through two busloads of wounded. “You need any help out here?” Asked Hawkeye jumping out of the ambulance directing the corpsmen to carry his injured man in to pre-op.

“We can handle things out here, you two scrub up and get started.” Ordered Blake, though his voice was missing the command his clerk had.

Nodding, Hawkeye and Trapper went into the hospital, making a B-line for the scrub room. Getting out of their green uniform and jumping in to the white scrubs, the two were discussing how to make the best out of the situation.

“Basically you make as many short cuts as you can and make sure they pull through. Post surgery infections are common so make sure you don’t have to go back in.” Instructed Trapper as the two scrubbed.

“And if you have time don’t forget to look for the glasses.” Added Hawkeye remembering the old joke which made them both laugh.

Entering the OR, both surgeons got their gowns and gloves on before getting down to business. The x-ray of Hawkeye’s patient showed a scrapyard of metal in his gut which needed to come out as soon as he got the bleeding under control.

By the time Hawkeye could start taking out the shrapnel Blake and Frank had scrubbed up and joined the party. It was when Frank started snarling at hi nurse for _screwing up_ that Hawkeye decided the tension needed breaking. “Hey! Trapper you got a magnet? I could lift this man up with all the metal in here.”

“I tried that once. Had to go back in to find the magnet.” Responded Trapper getting a giggle from Hawkeye. “How’s it going for you Hawk? Found your watch yet?”

Snickering, Hawkeye dropped another piece of metal in to a tray. “No but I’m thinking of building one with the scraps I find in here. What about yours, still breathing?”

“Still breathing, stopped bleeding. I’m just putting the drain in. Frank, how about you, need a hand to help you drop more tools?” Teased Trapper.

“Shut your trap Trapper, you're distracting me. Ach!” he dropped the tongs he’d just gotten from his nurse. “Would you hand those properly, you have to sterilize those again before we can use them, this is a waste of time.”

“Someone got his shorts in a twist.” Jeered Hawkeye, picking out another piece of shrapnel and throwing it loudly in the tray.

“Can we please have some quiet in here!” Barked Frank, getting a second instrument which he didn’t drop this time.

“Guys, quiet down please.” Sighed the Colonel. “I’m up to my elbows in this guy’s intestine trying to find the bleeder.”

“Do you want some help?” Asked Hawkeye, dropping the last shell fragment he could find in the tray.

“If you got the hand to spare.” Agreed Blake looking over his shoulder at Hawkeye.

“Give me a sec, I’m just closing here.” Responded Hawkeye closing up the young mans gut.

After having helped Blake find the bleeder, Hawkeye found himself sewing together the jigsaw puzzle of a mans liver, before he had to saw a mans leg off because it was missing to much of the artery and tibia. After that he had the burn victim who he spent almost an hour picking pieces of the uniform out of.

When the next leg case came in to his table Hawkeye was humming to himself. “What song is that?” Asked the nurse handing Hawkeye the retractor he’d asked for.

“Just something a dentist I meet on my way here sang. It got some memorable lyrics if you want to hear.” Smiled Hawkeye winking at the nurse. She nodded and Hawkeye hummed the first tone before singing the lyrics.

_“Through early morning fog I see,_

_Visions of the things to be,_

_The pain that are withheld for me,_

_I realized and now I see.”_

Hawkeye smiled at the nurse as he was coming to the best part.

_“That suicide is painless,_

_It brings on many changes,_

_And I can take or leave it if I please._

“Kelly, clamp.” The nurse hesitated a beat before handing Hawkeye the instrument.

_The game of life is hard to play._

_I’m gonna lose it any ways,_

_The losing card I’ll someday lay,_

_So this is all I have to say.”_

“Here’s the best part again.”  Giggled Hawkeye having the silent OR listening to his every word.

_“Suicide is painless,_

_It brings on many changes,_

_And I can take or leave it if I please.”_

“Hey Trapper! Is your friend alright?” Asked Blake craning his head to watch Hawkeye’s nonchalant way of digging someone else’s bone out of his patient.

“Stop that obscene singing Pierce!” Ordered Frank, only making Hawkeye sing louder.

_“The sword of time will pierce our skin,_

_It doesn’t hurt when it begin,_

_But as it works its way on in,_

_The pain grows stronger,_

_Watch it grin!”_

“Hey bud you alright?” Asked Trapper ignoring Franks outburst as well.

“I’m fine, you want to join me for the course.” Shrugged Hawkeye, never slipping up in his suturing and enjoying the confused looks he got.

“If it’s the same as the other ones.” Smiled Trapper joining Hawkeye in the next refrain.

_“Suicide is painless,_

_It brings on many changes,_

_And I can take or leave it if I please.”_

“Those two are mad.” Said Frank dropping another instrument. “Look what you made me drop.” He snarled at the two. They looked at each other, the creases around their eyes deepened as they smiled.

_“A brave man once requested me,_

_To answer questions that are key,_

_Is it to be or not to be,_

_And I reply oh why ask me?_

**_Suicide is painless,_ **

**_It brings on many changes,_ **

**_And I can take or leave it if I please_ ** _.”_

“That’s enough! Colonel order those two… two… invalids to shut up, they're upsetting the patients.” Snarled Frank throwing his next instrument on the floor.

“Frank, all the patients are out cold.” Sighed Blake joining them in the last refrain.

**_“And you can do the same thing if you please.”_ **

Finishing the song Hawkeye giggled. “The man who wrote the song was on his way home. I think he tried to kill himself to get out of here.” Sighed Hawkeye humming the melody to himself again.

“You aren’t thinking of following his example Hawk?” Asked Trapper, giving him a concerned look. He was serious and would probably not take a joke in the best way from him at that moment.

“Nah, I’ve already tried to kill my kidneys on my way over here, they want to live too much for me to join him.” Sighed Hawkeye, stitching together the leg. “I’m done with this one, bring in the next course for tasting.”

Later when the last wounded man had been taken in to post-op Hawkeye sank down on the bench in the changing room, exhausted. The nurse that had assisted him and Colonel Blake sank down beside him with a sigh of relief. “Anyone ever told you that you look gorgeous when you're tired?” asked Hawkeye tugging at the knot in his gown.

The nurse’s cheeks turned red. “I’ve heard that line before.” She said giving him a side long glance.

“It must be true then.” Smiled Hawkeye, pulling of the surgical gown. “This is where I start saying something like, your eyes are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen and I would love to get lost in them. But my brain stopped working an hour ago. So I’ll just ask you if you want to join me for a cup of coffee in the mess tent later instead?” He gave the nurse one of his charming smiles that had made many women fall in to his arms.

The nurse was undeniably flattered by his words but unfortunately had too much self-restraint to fall for his tactics.

“I’d love to, but someone’s got to be on duty in post-op and I drew the short straw.” She leaned in closer. “I get off at midnight.” She breathed in his ear before getting up.

“12:05 in the supplies tent then.” Grinned Hawkeye getting a nod from the nurse as she left him. “Now all I have to do is find it.” He sighed reaching for the back of the white, now bloodstained, shirt he wore. Pulling the shirt off he got a whiff of iron and disinfectant. Wrinkling his nose at the smell Hawkeye tossed the shirt into its basket as Colonel Blake and Frank walked out of the OR.

“I’m absolutely exhausted.” Groaned Frank, sitting down on the seat the nurse had just left. “How long were we in there? It felt like days.”

Letting out a long groan as he stretched, Blake reached for the shelf above the two’s head and picked up a watch. “Let’s see, it was around lunch when we went in and they should be clearing of the supper tables by now.”

“Six hours, give or take.” Said Hawkeye.

“Yeah, about that.” Agreed Blake putting on the watch. “Boy, I’m sure glad you arrived before these wounded did. You did a mighty good job patching them up. You’ve got much experience of meatball surgery?” Asked Blake.

Yawning Hawkeye shook his head.

“Took them as I saw them, I got the easy cases compared to yours.” He said, suspecting Trapper of making sure that he got the easier ones to warm up.

“Lucky you, I had to re-sect two bowels and take out two kidneys.” Complained Frank, struggling out of his own scrubs.

“Hope it wasn’t all in one patient.” Commented Hawkeye, drawing a smile from the Colonel and after a moment a giggle from Frank, who was much slower at getting his humor.

“Oh you.” Smiled Frank. “I really thought you were going bonkers in there with all that singing. But you're alright, a strong minded, true American cutter. It’s not everyone who can stomach this sort of work, especially not when they are fresh from the cozy little hospitals back in the states. No, I’ve seen strong men turn green at the thought of cutting off a leg but you.” He grinned widely at Hawkeye. “You do it like you were born to do it.”

No matter what Frank thought of him Hawkeye was feeling very green at that moment. “I’m sure you know what you're talking about. The way you fumbled your instruments and stitched your patients together, you should be glad they don’t bust you with a malpractice suit for incompetently handling medical equipment.”

Frank blinked at him as the words sank in. “Now wait a minute. I just-“

“Frank, let it go. You have to make rounds and be on duty. Don’t start a fight.” Warned the Colonel, having understood that Hawkeye wasn’t kidding around before Frank realized it himself.

“But sir!” Complained Frank, getting up from his seat.

“And that’s an order.” Said Blake.

The effect of those few words worked like a spell on Frank who clicked his heals together and saluted him.

“Yes sir.” He said and marched out of the scrub room his boots stomping on the floor.

Blake let out a deep breath leaning against the wash-baskets.

“You really know where to poke him. I’m sorry for the way Frank said it but he’s right, you are as good a surgeon as Trapper.” Said the Colonel eyeing Hawkeye.

Giving the man a tired smile in response, Hawkeye stood up grabbing his shirt from the peg it was hanging on. “I know I’m a good surgeon, I wouldn’t be this self-confident if I wasn’t.” He said shrugging on the jacket. “Think I’m going to check if there’s any supper left in the mess tent. Holler if you need me.”  He left the scrub room just as Trapper walked in from the OR.

Hearing his friend start up a conversation with the Colonel, Hawkeye walked out into the cold evening, breathing in the fresh air. He didn’t head for the mess tent or his cot, even if collapsing onto it felt like the best thing to do. Instead he hunched his shoulders and barely managed to reach the latrine before his lunch made an encore.

Standing behind the latrine, he retched repeatedly, the food he threw up tasting no better than when it went down. He knew why his stomach was rejecting its contents, anyone would. To look at someone’s torn up guts and coldly sew it back together wasn’t something a sane man could do without being sickened. It was one thing knowing people were going to be brought in from the front, shredded and in pain, expecting him to patch them up, and an entirely different thing doing it, seeing the young men, some hardly eighteen, mangled, burned and dying.

Pressing his forehead to the wood of the latrine Hawkeye gagged, the acidic stomach content burning his throat. He had done the work he’d been sent to Korea to do, and done it well, been praised for cutting off a mans leg and shortening another’s intestines with several inches. He was good at it and he hated himself for being so good.

A gentle hand patted Hawkeye on the shoulder. “There, there. Not everyone has Frank’s stomach for this sort of work.” Comforted Trapper.

“Guess he would have been prude if someone told him that he was good at cutting peoples legs off.” Gulped Hawkeye, trying to stop the next heave before he threw up more bile.

“He probably would. But you aren’t.” Said Trapper, matter of fact.

Hawkeye couldn’t stop the dry laugh and thought he sounded a bit mad. “I should be home in Maine, bandaging cuts and scratches from falling of the bike, treating burns from kitchen accidents, do hernia operations. Not sawing off peoples legs, or sewing together their liver after a bomb torn it to shreds, or pick out what’s left of a guy’s uniform after he was set on fire. It should be simple stuff, common and boring. The chance to peek at someone’s organs should bee a rarity, not a commonality.” Hawkeye pulled a face at the heaving of his stomach. “Sorry for the speech Trapper, I’m just throwing up my humanitarian feelings.”

Trapper’s hand moved from Hawkeye’s shoulder to gently rub his back. “I know the feeling pal. After my first meatball surgery I cried myself to sleep, still do. It’s not easy to adjust to this kind of reality. We are doctors after all. The guys who takes care of the wounded, keeps them from dying and make sure that most of them gets sent back.”

At the thought of sending the guys in post-op back to the front Hawkeye’s stomach won over his self-control and he vomited up what was left in it. There was just no way he could in good conscience send the young men back up to the front, only to have them return in worse conditions, or God forbid body bags.

Making a face, Trapper was quiet while Hawkeye threw up, when he was finished Hawkeye turned to glare at his old friend. “You know what the worst thing about this is?” he asked, his voice strained.

“That you get used to it.” Replied Trapper all to aware of what was coming Hawkeye’s way.

Giving him a grim smile, Hawkeye straightened and whipping his mouth with his sleeve. “I don’t want that.” He said knowing that he was going to get used to all the horrors weather he liked it or not.

Nodding, Trapper patted Hawkeye on the shoulder. “I know pal, I know.”

They stood there in each other’s silence for a moment until Hawkeye sniffed and rubbed the stiffness out of his face. “I need a drink. Let’s get started on that still before my date tonight.” He proclaimed drawing raised eyebrows from Trapper.

“You haven’t been here for twelve hours and you already got a date!” he exclaimed. “Tell me who it is and I’ll make sure to steal her from you before you get past first base.” He said, his eyes twinkling in the rising moons light.

 

The first morning at the 4077th was cold, the wind was tugging at the tents and sneaking in under the doors, chilling the insides as well as the outsides. Hawkeye woke up hungry but didn’t move out of his cot. It was warm under the blankets and he could wait with breakfast, the smell coming from the mess tent wasn’t rushing him. Besides, the body next to him was far too pleasant and warm for him to even consider leaving its warm embrace.

Closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of the camp waking up Hawkeye started on the first on his many letters home. “Dear Dad.”


	4. A good deed never goes unpunished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning from a aid station, Hawkeye and Klinger run into trouble in the form of three children. More trouble follows them as they return to the 4077th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks another Mash short story. This one took a bit longer to write but is also longer than the others.  
> A big thanks to Max who's a great beta reader and is teaching me a lot about writing, even if I don't do all the changes that are surgested.

 

 

Stepping out into the afternoon sunlight, Hawkeye yawned loudly, stretching his arms high above his head, the tired muscle in his neck and shoulders made their protests felt.

Coming out of the aid station beside him, Klinger showed off all his teeth as he mimicked Hawkeye.

“You said it sir.” Klinger shook his head licking his lips. “How long were we in there? The sky hasn’t changed so it can’t have been that long.” He said, walking over to their jeep and dumping their things onto the back seat.

Squinting up at the solid gray sky, Hawkeye scratched his jaw. “I don’t know about the sky, but my stubble says two days.”

Scratching his own face, Klinger nodded. “So does mine. That makes this Sunday right?”

Hawkeye shrugged and said farewell to the aid station's new surgeon. He’d been called in to keep the station going until the replacement for the one who had died was dragged to the front. Between the first aid, temporary fixes and stolen minutes of sleep, Hawkeye wasn’t sure a week hadn’t gone by without him noticing it.

“Alright, ready to leave.” Smiled Klinger, jumping into the jeep and reaching for the wheel.

“Oh no you don’t.” Protested Hawkeye, grabbing the wheel and stopping Klinger from taking the driver’s seat. “I’m not letting you drive after the ride up here.”

Looking a bit hurt, Klinger didn’t let go or make it easy for Hawkeye to get into the jeep. “Sir, you’ve been at it for two days straight. I can’t remember the last time I saw you sleep. If anyone’s driving, it’s me.”

Letting out a short laugh, Hawkeye shook his head.

“I don’t think so. It would be safer in North Korea than sitting beside you as you drive.” He pushed Klinger out of the way and sat down behind the wheel. “I’ll drive and you can keep an eye out for unfriendly faces.”

“Is there something wrong with my driving?” Asked Klinger, making sure his rifle was within easy reach.

“Nooo, nothing at all.” Said Hawkeye, starting the engine. “If you meant to drive like a car thief from the UK.”

That struck Klinger in his pride. “I’ll have you know, I got my drivers license with flying colors back in Toledo.” He put his beak of a nose up in the air. “Besides, there’s no right side to drive on when the roads are half gone.”

Chuckling, Hawkeye shook his head. “That explains why you drive like you just committed grand theft auto.”

“Who’s to say that the jeep I’m driving isn’t stolen? If I remember right you were the one who stole a General’s jeep.” There was a twinkle in Klinger eyes.

“Bah!” Hawkeye waved the incident off. “He got it back didn’t he?”

Klinger gave him a sharp grin. “And you got away scot free.”

“But not the jeep.” Giggled Hawkeye, relaxing a bit as he drove along the empty road. The light humor and conversation was all that kept him going. The only good his weariness did was weigh down his foot on the gas.

Yawning widely, Klinger pulled the furry coat closer around himself. “I can’t wait to get back and crawl into my cot, put my feet to the stove and a Do Not Disturb sign over my eyelids.”

Letting out a moan at the thought of a warm cot and sleep, Hawkeye turned on to the road along the river.  “I’m going to find a barbed wire fence and put it around my cot, with a sign reading 'Caution - Minefield, Wake Surgeon At Your Own Risk'.”

Klinger chuckled. “You want me to dig up one of our mines for you? Next thing you know it’ll be the wake-up bell.”

“A ha, that joke took a morbid turn. Better just put me in the coffin right off and no one will disturb the sleeping dead.” Smiled Hawkeye, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Opening them again he saw a figure move at the side of the road.

Klinger’s shouted “Watch out!” was what jolted Hawkeye’s brain into action and he swerved to avoid the person running out into the road, feeling the wheels on his side of the jeep lifting as he turned sharply. Both he and Klinger leaned instinctively to the side having the vehicle back on all fours before they stopped.

His hands still tight on the steering wheel, Hawkeye turned together with Klinger to see who they’d avoided to hit.

“I just had a flashback that ended worse than this.” Commented Hawkeye, watching the child run up to them, shouting in Korean.

“Tell me about it sir.” Breathed Klinger jumping out of the jeep. “Hi there little one, you know you shouldn’t run out in the road like that. It’s very dangerous.” He greeted the girl.

Unclenching his hands from the wheel, Hawkeye joined them, listening to the girl as she waved with her hands making no sense at all. “Sorry hon, what we know in Korean you’re probably too young to hear.” Responded Klinger.

The girl made a noise that was universal, she’d thought she’d explained herself clearly and they were stupid GI’s who didn’t understand. Again she spoke, this time slowly and pointed back to where she’d come from.

Hawkeye and Klinger looked at each other before turning back to the girl. “Sorry, but we don’t understand, if there’s something you want to show us then I guess it’s alright.” Said Hawkeye.

The girl made that exasperated sound again and grabbed Hawkeye’s sleeve, tugging on him to follow. “I think she wants us to come with her.” Supplied Klinger.

“You don’t say. Let’s just hope this is not a trap.” The thought had struck Hawkeye as he followed the girl over to where she’d walked up the slope and she pointed.

The two men could see what had gotten the girl so worked up and why she’d thrown herself in front of a car. Below them was the river, roaring high from the rain that had come earlier that week. Another child stood beside it shouting to the tiny figure in the middle of the stream.

“There’s a kid out there.” Breathed Klinger as the three descended the slope, slipping and sliding on the uneven footing.

Reaching the other child, Hawkeye noticed that it was a younger girl and that she had a couple of large packs beside her, as well as homemade fishing pole that lay forgotten on the soggy banks.

“What happened?” Asked Hawkeye, already getting a pretty good idea of what had happened.

The girls tugged at them and pointed out to the child holding on for dear life to a tree trunk in the middle of the river.

“Someone should go in after him.” Said Klinger, giving Hawkeye a look.

“Thanks for volunteering. I’ll get the rope from the jeep.” Responded Hawkeye turning to climb up the slope.

“Wait.” Yelped Klinger, getting between Hawkeye and the slope. “I’ll get it.” There was something fishy about the smile Klinger sent Hawkeye before he climbed up to the road.

He turned back to watch the boy, trying to determine how much longer he could hold on. The river was practically ice melt and would be trying to pull the next person who went in under. The kid could maybe hold on for a couple of minutes, if he wasn’t already drained of strength.

The older girl tugged at his sleeves and Hawkeye understood the tone of her voice if not the words. She needed their help, whoever was in the river was important to her.

There was a shuffling behind them and Klinger slid down the slope, rope in hand.

“Here sir, tie this around you and we’ll heave you in.” said the man, holding out one end of the rope to Hawkeye.

“Eh, no. You're going in, not me.” Protested Hawkeye, pushing the offered end of the rope back at Klinger.

“Oh, no sir. I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Said Klinger, pushing the rope end to Hawkeye.

“It’s not impossible, just a chilly dip in the river and a quick swim out to the kid.” Huffed Hawkeye, wondering why his friend was so evasive. “You might catch hypothermia and pneumonia but I can fix that once we are back at the 4077th”

“It is for me sir. I can’t swim. That’s why I’m in the army and not the navy.” Said Klinger, shoving the rope back to Hawkeye, who was forced to accept it.

“Okay, but take a note for the Colonel. I’m getting you swimming lessons the next time we are near a body of water. Be it warm or cold, a puddle or an ocean.” Hissed Hawkeye, tying the rope around his waist and trying the knot before turning to the river.

“Good luck sir. We’ll hold on to you.” Said Klinger, waving at the girls to grab the rope behind him as Hawkeye removed his jacket and scarf.

If it weren’t for the boy, Hawkeye would have turned back the moment the water touched his skin. Instead he made a lot of noise, yelping and squealing as he walked further out. The river tugged and pulled at his legs, making him slip over the rocks at the bottom. He got submerged a couple of times, the water knocking him down.

Hawkeye was up to his shoulder in freezing water when he reached the child.

“Hi there! I’m Hawkeye Pierce.” He said, grabbing hold of the tree trunk the child clutched. “Your friends over there asked me to come get you. They were very insistent.” He placed himself behind the boy and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“It’s okay to let go now. I’ve got you.” Said Hawkeye, noticing the boy’s blue lips and pale skin. He had definitely been in the water too long. In the end he had to pry the boys fingers loose. When he was free from his death grip. the kid wrapped his arms around Hawkeye and held on.

The walk back to the banks was easier thanks to Klinger and the girls pulling on the rope. Still, the river didn’t like to let go of its prey and Hawkeye found himself slipping on the bottom and get a lungful of water.

Thrusting his head through the surface he coughed and spat, hearing the boy do the same. Reaching the shore, Klinger and the girls helped them up. The girls were chattering in Korean their hands touching the boy who still clung to Hawkeye.

“K-Klinger, give m…me your c...oat.” Croaked Hawkeye, his teeth clattering.

“Here sir.” Said Klinger, thrusting the coat into Hawkeye’s free hand. “What do we do now? Drive the kids home or take them with us to the 4077th?”

Pulling the fur coat over the boy, Hawkeye gently rubbed warmth into the child.

“I d-don’t know.” He said, looking down on the girls. “W-here are y-your parents?” He asked and then added the two words in Korean he himself understood. “Appa? Eomma?”

The girls expression changed and the younger one fell silent as her sister explained things. It was a story they’d heard many times, the girl explained it pretty well using gestures and sounds.

“W-We’ll take ‘em back w-with us.” Decided Hawkeye.

Climbing up to the road, still carrying the boy, was a lot more difficult because of Hawkeye’s numb fingers and feet. He didn’t like that and did his best to wiggle his toes keeping up the blood flow.

“Klinger! Y-you drive, girls j-jump in… the back and h-hold on.” Said Hawkeye, taking the passenger seat rubbing his arms over the boys back.

“Now you let me drive.” Huffed Klinger, jumping in behind the wheel and starting the engine.

“Now I n-need a car thief.” Retorted Hawkeye. “S-step on it, we n-need to get this child warmed up.”

“Stepping on it.” Replied the Lebanese man. The engine roared and threw them all back against their seats. Hawkeye found himself missing the safety of seat belts and walls around him.

Even if Hawkeye complained about Klinger’s driving, he had to give the man credit for avoiding potholes and getting them all in one piece to the 4077th. The sun was low, painting the whole camp in autumn colors. There was a lot of noise coming from the officers club, sounding like a good party.

Klinger pulled the jeep to a halt in front of post-op.

“Here we are, back where the food kills you faster than the river flows.” Smiled Klinger jumping out of the jeep.

“And if the food don’t kill you, the booze will.” Added Hawkeye, climbing out still holding on to the boy. His knees took a moment to decide whether to bend or hold him up, fortunately they decided to hold him up.

The two girls followed him and Klinger as they walked through the doors to post-op.

“Get a cot over in front of the stove Klinger and fetch some dry clothes for the boy.” Ordered Hawkeye, heading for the fire where major Houlihan was getting up from her desk.

“What’s going on?” She asked, running up to him.

“Nothing much. Klinger and I went fishing after we were done at battalion aid. Caught this boy and hypothermia.” Said Hawkeye. Klinger dragged a cot across the floor, parking it in front of the stove.

“You want anything else when I’m still in the store room?” He asked, warming his hands that were as white as Hawkeye’s own.

“Get Potter, he’s the doctor on duty.” Ordered Houlihan, helping Hawkeye place the boy on the mattress. Throwing a quick salute, Klinger ran off. “Are the girls his family?” Asked Margaret, pushing away Hawkeye’s fumbling fingers as he tried to untie the boys shirt. “Warm yourself up and get out of those soaking clothes.”

Smiling at Margaret’s comment, Hawkeye leaned back against the wall.

“My, Major, there are children present.” She glared at him. “The girls are his sisters, I think.” Looking closer at the two girls Hawkeye noticed that they didn’t look much like each other, the older girl had brown hair, green eyes and thin lips. Were as the other had thick black hair, a hard set to her jaw and full lips.

Knowing that they were being talked about the two girls began speaking. Their tones were understandable if not the words. The Major turned to the girls and held up her hands,

“Daegi jungji.” She said and the girls fell silent.

“I didn’t know you spoke Korean.” Said Hawkeye. he was shaking and couldn’t get his frozen fingers to unzip his jacket. At some point he’d stopped feeling cold and gone numb, now he was starting to regain feeling in his body and he was most certainly cold.

“I learned a few words for when the locals needs our help.” Responded Houlihan, reaching over the cot she grabbed Hawkeye’s zipper and pulled it down for him. “Get two extra blankets from over there, make sure you keep the blood flowing through your extremities.”

“Yes doctor.” Drawled Hawkeye, pushing himself up he stumbled over to where they had extra blankets. Grabbing two he returned to Houlihan and helped her get the rest of the wet clothes of the shivering boy.

When they had the boy wrapped in a blanket, thermometer sticking out of his mouth, the Major turned to Hawkeye.

“You need a hand getting out of those?” She asked, a wicked glint in her eyes as she eyed his dripping clothes.

“I thought you'd never ask.” Hawkeye winked at her just as the door to the ward swung open. The Colonel entering before Klinger who carried two changes of clothes and Hawkeye's robe, amongst other things.

“I can’t let you two go anywhere.” Sighed the Colonel, walking up to the cot and Margaret. “What’s the status?” He asked, sitting down on the side of the bed, his eyes on the boy.

“Kid half drowned in the river, suffering from hypothermia, lost conscious during the ride here.” Reported Hawkeye, removing his shirt and replacing it with the dry one Klinger handed him.

The Colonel checked the boys vitals as Hawkeye changed out of his wet clothes and into the dry ones, wrapping himself in the blanket for modesty as he put on the shorts. Once dressed and wearing both his robe and blanket for warmth he sat on the chair beside the stove, warming his feet.

Margaret had gotten one of her nurses to take the two girls through the mess tent and get them some place to sleep in the nurses tent. The Colonel straighten after having listed to the boys chest, placing his stethoscope around his neck.

“He needs a chest x-ray, I think he got fluids in his lungs. Wouldn’t want him to drown on dry land after you risked your life pulling him out of the water.” Said the Colonel.

“I’ll get on the x-ray, right away sir.” Responded Klinger. “Kelly! Give me a hand.”

Potter got up and crocked a finger at Hawkeye. “Join me in my office, Pierce.” He requested, stepping aside for Klinger and Kelly to carry the boy out.

Pushing himself up Hawkeye followed the Colonel, through Klinger’s office and into the commanding officers office. The old man flicked on the lights and walked over to his desk.

“Sit down Pierce.” He sighed, waving at the many chairs and sitting spaces of the room.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Responded Hawkeye, sitting down in the chair beside the stove, taking the liberty to add fuel to the fire. Once that was done he returned to massaging and rubbing warmth in to his still frozen toes.

Potter took out two glasses and a bottle of scotch from his liquor cabinet.

“You know, I feel like I become ten years older every time you go to battalion aid.” He handed a glass of scotch to Hawkeye. “BJ goes out of his way to fill every slow moment with practical jokes and pranks. Winchester takes your absence as an excuse to play his blessed music louder than ever. In the OR he even tries to be the chief surgeon.”

“Sounds to me like you shouldn’t send me out to battalion aid.” Commented Hawkeye, sipping the scotch, savoring the smooth burn of the alcohol.

“You’d think so.” Huffed the Colonel, sipping at his own drink. “But it’s the same thing when you go on leave. I suppose that means I shouldn’t give you leave either.” He raised his eyebrows looking at Hawkeye with a meaningful smile.

“A-ha.” Said Hawkeye, having almost chocked on his scotch.

“Yes, so you understand that I’m tired and out of patience.” Hawkeye nodded, feeling like he was in the principles office after getting caught booby-trapping the jocks changing rooms. “I don’t mind you coming back with injured kids. That’s part of our job. It’s not part of your job however to risk your life and health, wading into a river of ice water to save a kid when Klinger was right there. We can afford to have him off his feet longer than we can you.” Potters face had gone red as his voice rose.

Swallowing another gulp of scotch Hawkeye smiled up at the man. “I’ll forgive you for saying that about our dear Klinger and will just say that our Lebanese clerk can’t swim.”

The man's face turned beet red, before he took a deep breath and Hawkeye could see him calm down. “I’m going to deal with him later. You on the other hand has just volunteered to take my shifts in post-op for the next week. And don’t ask for a three day pass to Tokyo any time in the near future.”

“But I can ask for a 24 hour pass to Seoul?” Smiled Hawkeye, throwing back the rest of his scotch.

“Don’t count on it.” Huffed the Colonel, emptying his own glass. Sighing, Potter shook his head. “We got the casualties you sent down from battalion aid.”

Rubbing his head, Hawkeye grunted. He was too tired to take Potter’s reprimand personally.

“Those pencil pushers down in Soul had their eyes set on another hill with a number lower than the amount of men it cost them to take it.” Hawkeye looked into his empty glass.

Raising the bottle in question, the Colonel refilled the glasses. “All the kids you sent down are resting in post-op right now. Not many of them would have made it if you weren’t at battalion until they got a new surgeon.”

“Yeah.” Grumbled Hawkeye. He couldn’t remember how many kids he’d worked on, it was just one bloody wound after another, decisions made so that the next guy would have a chance even if that decision wasn’t the best one. Staring into the glass of amber liquid Hawkeye could still hear the cries of the wounded and see the blood that cover his hands.

Potter’s firm hand on his shoulder drew Hawkeye out of his trance. “You're tired son. Go back to the Swamp and get some rest. BJ and Winchester are in the officers club playing gin checkers, so they won’t bother you for a couple of hours.”

Yawning, reminded of his fatigue, Hawkeye stood. “I think that’s the only game Charles will both win and lose at.”

Chuckling the Colonel patted him on the shoulder. “The best part is everything the onlookers get away with doing to him.” He said. “I’ll tell them not to make to much noise when they return to the Swamp.” 

Saying good night to the Colonel, Hawkeye left the building and crossed the compound to the Swamp. He had wanted to stop by the officers club and see how drunk Charles was, but his feet steered him to his cot and sleeping bag. 

He fell asleep without a problem, stirring when BJ and Charles came in. He was aware of greeting the two drunks but not what he said or laughed about.

In the middle of charming a ravenous redhead in his dreams, Hawkeye’s chest suddenly felt tight and a noise filled his ears.

“Hawkeye.” Said the redhead in a deep voice. 

The dream faded out as the cold tent flicked into focus with his blinking eyes. “Hawk! Wake up we got wounded.” 

BJ was tugging on his pants as Hawkeye groaned and rolled over. His throat was dry and he could fill in potholes with the sand in his eyes. The blanket was violently pulled off him.

“Get up, you can sleep when you're dead.” Moaning Hawkeye sat up rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “That’s it Hawkeye, shoes on and bum off the bed.” Yawned BJ, turning to his next victim.

Charles made a dignified yelp as his own blanket was yanked off of him.

“Please, I have the most atrocious headache.” Complained the snob, lightening Hawkeye’s mood.

“Come on Charles, wounded come before your personal misery.” Croaked Hawkeye, stumping into his boots and grabbing his mug from a shelf.

“You're one to speak Pierce, you weren’t up drinking half the night.” Moaned Charles, squinting at them as he sat up. The sounds of the incoming choppers grew louder, accompanied by the roaring sound of distant ambulance.

“You wouldn’t be so hung over if you’d let me win a couple of rounds last night.” Smiled BJ, not looking all that fresh himself.

Filling his mug with coffee from the stove, Hawkeye gulped the bitter brew before following BJ out into the compound where the ambulance were arriving. Charles followed them a beat later together with the nurses and corpsmen.

As the wounded were brought out of the ambulance and laid down on the ground, the doctors started sorting through them, getting the worst straight in to pre-op and the lighter injuries a quick look before telling the wounded to hang tight.

Hawkeye’s head was spinning as he changed into his scrubs with BJ and Potter. Taking it a bit slow as he scrubbed his head felt slightly better. “You're taking your sweet time scrubbing.” noted the Colonel, taking the sink beside Hawkeye.

“I think I left my brain on the pillow.” Yawned Hawkeye. “I don’t remembering ordering a bloody mess for breakfast, when did the North Koreans start their attack?”

Grunting Potter rinsed his hands. “It wasn’t an attack. Some general sent these boys into a minefield, thinking he knew the way through it. All for an advantage on the next hill in this stupid war.”

“God, how I wish I could knock some of those stars of his uniform and send them spinning around his skull.” Hawkeye rinsed his hands and joined the Colonel going into the OR where BJ had already parked himself in front of a table with a leg wound.

“Just don’t go off doing anything foolish. I can’t risk losing a great pair of hands in here.” Grunted Potter, putting on a gown and gloves.

Hawkeye made a face taking his own place beside his first patient. The boy’s left hand had been torn to pieces and he was sporting a bloody mess all over the same side of his chest and face.

“You might not lose my hands in here, but this this kid is going to lose one of his.” Grumbled Hawkeye.

“It’s too far gone to save?” Asked the Colonel, getting his first instrument from the nurse.

“There is no way I can reattach what’s left.” Sighed Hawkeye, turning his attention to the chest wounds. He had examined the boy outside in the compound and knew that his lung was filling with blood, that had to be his priority, he could worry about the hand after he got the kid stable.

They were half way through their first patients when Charles decided to grace them with his presence, joined by Father Mulcahy.

“Anyone need something?” asked Mulcahy walking up and down the length of the room, Winchester settling in with his patient.

“Some coffee here. Don’t bother with a mug, I take it intravenously.” Yawned Hawkeye, clearing his throat. He was thirsty and his mouth had gone dry again.

“Wouldn’t mind a blessing for sharp tools and quick hands over here. Scissors.” Added BJ, his hands were working faster than Hawkeye’s or Potters.

“Nothing for me Father. Being a Winchester I can go through these sessions without any blessings or stimulus.” Huffed Charles.

Hawkeye looked up and meet BJ’s gaze.

“You hear that? The man complained about his hangover ten minutes ago and is now dancing around a man’s chest without complaint.” Said Hawkeye.

“Must be those Winchester genes. Should have heard him while we were playing checkers.” BJ changed his voice to sound more like Charles. “I’m a Winchester, I can beat you in gin checkers and stay sober at the same time. Now stop spinning the damned board. Forceps.” BJ smiled under his mask. “The board was still I told him. It was the rum that was spinning.”

Giggling Hawkeye put a stitch in the last bleeder and prepared to put a chest tube in. “I’m sorry I missed it now.” He said, changing instruments with hands that knew what they were doing without asking his brain. He had done so many operations like this one that he could do it half conscious.

“No you are not. It took them all night to make their first move.” Said Mulcahy, standing by BJ’s table. “And when Winchester finally made his move, it turned out he was the black check pieces.”

Hawkeye’s snickering turned into a cough and he turned his face from the patient. “You alright there Hawkeye?” asked Potter, having stayed out of the conversation, his silent work neat and quick.

“I’m fine. But if these two keep it up you’ll find me on the floor fighting for air through the laugh.” Responded Hawkeye, clearing his throat again and returned to his patient.

“Really Pierce that was hardly anything to laugh about. Not like yesterday’s exploding mashed potatoes.” Chuckled Charles, glancing over his shoulder at BJ.

“Don’t look at me. Igor was the one serving the food.” Answered BJ innocent.

“Whose food blew up?” asked Hawkeye, turning his attention from the chest to the broken hand.

“That would have been mine.” Said the Colonel, dropping a piece of shrapnel into a tray, the sound ominously loud. Even if he’d wanted to laugh Hawkeye found it impossible with the man’s hard eyes burning into his neck.

It took two more patients getting patched up before the silence was broken again. As so many times before it was Hawkeye who started talking. The young man who was carried in to his table had a leg wound and remembering him from triage, would need an arterial transplant. 

“Am I going to lose my leg Doc?” Asked the man as soon as he was placed in front of Hawkeye.

“No sorry today’s dinner is liver. The old man behind me is in charge of that.” Joked Hawkeye, nodding to Charles who sent him a nasty look.

“Are you trying to reassure the man with your butchery humor or scare him into running away on his broken leg?” Asked Charles dryly.

“You promise, you won’t take my leg? I don’t want to go home on a peg.” Pleaded the young man, evading the gas mask the nurse tried to hold over his face.

Having changed gown and gloves Hawkeye turned to look the man straight in the eyes. “No peg, they are a bit old fashion. We send you home on a pair of crutches now a days. Just relax. You're in good hands.” He nodded to the nurse who was still holding the mask close to the man’s face. “Nurse Anderson got the softest hands in camp. Trust me I know.” He winked at nurse.

“Come on. Take nice and deep breaths.” Cooed the nurse, gently placing the mask over the man’s face.

“Alright, let’s make sure he can walk home if he wants to.” Breathed Hawkeye. “Scalpel.”

Hawkeye had finished prepping the artery for a graft when Klinger and Igor came in with another man on a stretcher, that from the looks of it only had light injuries. “Last one, who wants him?” Called Klinger, sounding a bit horse. 

“I’ll take him.” Said BJ, hiding a yawn behind his mask. “Is it just me who’s hungry enough to eat in the mess tent?”

“I could eat there, just not the food served there.” Retorted Hawkeye. “Hey Igor, shouldn’t you be slapping oatmeal on trays right now?”

“Or slice up bread baked in the AD.” Added Father Mulcahy, who had been called into help Potter hold a retractor.

“Cook’s still scrambling the powdered eggs. I got time to help around here for another hour before he’s finished and I have to serve what’s left.” Shrugged Igor. He and Klinger placed the last patient on BJ’s table.

“You better wash your hands before you start serving the food.” Warned Potter.

“What’s the point? The kitchen has already been declared a biohazard. Anything that comes out of there has already gone through the worst of it.” Complained Igor, leaving with Klinger. 

“Don’t worry sir, I’ll make sure he washes his hands before handling the bed pans.” Smiled the Lebanese, leaving the surgeons and nurses in the OR chuckling. 

When they were all finished, sewing up the injured soldiers the General had sent them, they all shuffled over to the mess tent. As they had suspected, the breakfast was edible if one was hungry enough, which they all were.

Igor served them oatmeal that managed to look dry and soggy at the same time, the scrambled eggs that were slapped on the tray next were gray and smelled funny. The bacon was hard enough that Hawkeye let it be after his tooth made a crunching noise. If anything could be said about the stale bread Father Mulcahy had already said it, 'Baked Before Christ.'

“What I wouldn’t give for a crumb of freshly baked bread.” Moaned Hawkeye, shoving his tray of untouched food across the table. Leaning back against the tent wall, he rubbed his tired face.

The tray was immediately picked up by one of the girls from the river.

“One mans waste is another ones treasure.” Smiled Mulcahy, watching the girls consume the food.

“They look like this is the first proper meal they’ve had in a while.” Said Houlihan, who was sitting beside them.

“Sort of explains why they tried to fish in a river of death.” Quipped Hawkeye. His eyes were heavy and he wouldn’t have minded falling asleep were he sat, he wasn’t fully sure the whole conversation wasn’t a dream. Squinting at Margaret however he was fairly certain she wasn’t a dream. She was wearing too many clothes to be in one of his.

“You know, you can be really insensitive sometimes.” Huffed Margaret, taking a decisive bite out of her bread.

“I’m sorry, blame it on the war and the river of blood I’m standing in every day.” Yawned Hawkeye, letting his eyelids close.

“We can blame a lot on this war, sleep deprivation is one thing I’ll bill them for.” Yawned BJ, covering his mouth and sipping at the coffee. “I’ll be glad when it’s over and no more children will have to be alone because their home blew up.”

“Hear Hear!” Agreed Hawkeye, lifting his own mug of bitter coffee and gulped it down. He cracked open an eye to squint at the Father, who to had raised his mug in agreement. “You think Nurse Cratty has any room for three more children?” he asked.

“Well you know their old saying.” Smiled the Father. “There’s always room for one more. Or in this case three.”

Nodding Hawkeye closed his eyes again and listened to the soft conversation. He wasn’t sure when the conversation stopped and his dreams began, only that the woman sitting next to him was very lovely and insisted on offering him a dry martini.

Drinking it, Hawkeye coughed. The coughed continued longer than it should waking him out of his sleep to the sound of his own coughing. It hurt and he felt out of breath as his lungs forced the air out of his chest. Grabbing his mug he gulped the acidic coffee quieting the coughs to something more manageable.

“You want me to bring you some water?” asked BJ. He had at some point moved from his seat beside Hawkeye to the one opposite him. The rest of the mess tent was empty, apart from Igor who was cleaning off the tables.

“Nah, I’m fine. Dreamt I had the driest martini of my life.” Answered Hawkeye, rubbing his throat.

“Ah ha, so you are feeling alright then?” asked BJ, his kind eyes locked on Hawkeye’s face.

“Course I am.” Responded Hawkeye, rubbing the sand out of his eyes. His head was aching, as if he’d spent the whole night drinking and not sleeping and the dry irritation at the back of his throat threatened to start another coughing fit. “Shall we return to the Swamp, I think today will be a good year for our gin.”

He didn’t wait for BJ’s response but rose and made his way to the exit, all the time with a head that spun slowly on his shoulders.

“Sometimes I think the still is your watch. You sure use it at regular intervals.” Grunted BJ rising.

“And irregular, you should not let it anticipate when you drink from its nectar or it’ll have the same boring taste every time.” Responded Hawkeye, not sure if he was talking about the still or a nurse, he treated them both with respect and admiration.

“Hawk, you're sleepwalking again.” Sighed BJ, following him out of the mess tent. “You might want to go back to bed and sleep until you're awake.”

Yawning, Hawkeye shrugged.

“If I’m sleepwalking again how come I know I’m in Korea and that I’m talking to you Beej?” he retorted, though he felt like his feet were the ones deciding where to go and not him.

Shaking his head BJ clapped Hawkeye on the shoulder.

“How can you be sure that it’s me you're talking to and that you aren’t somewhere other than Korea?” he shot back pulling Hawkeye to the side and out of the way of a puddle.

“Touché! I hereby declare you a figment of my imagination and will stop listening to you from now on.” Said Hawkeye, winking at his friend.

BJ laughed.

“Alright sleepyhead. Hit the cot and tell me in the evening if I’m still a figment of your imagination.” They walked in through the swamp door to find the tent deserted and Charle’s bathrobe missing.

“I don’t have to wait until evening to tell you if you aren’t real. You are far too handsome to be Beej.” Yawned Hawkeye falling into his cot. Pulling the blanket around himself he tried to kick his boot’s off, without much luck.

“Here.” Sighed BJ. Grabbing a hold of Hawkeye’s foot he removed the boots one by one.

“Thanks.” Mumbled Hawkeye into his pillow, already entering dreamland.

“You're welcome.” Said BJ, placing his friends boots on the floor beside his cot and covered the man's feet with the blanket.

That done, BJ walked over to his own cot and pulled out the latest letter from home. He had already read it a thousand times, but seeing his wife’s neat handwriting made him feel less homesick. He could sometimes trick his brain into hearing Peggy read the letter to him, as if she was standing behind him, reading over his shoulder.

She was telling him about Erin's first snow day, how she had taken her to the park with other kids and built a snowman with her. BJ could just imagine himself sitting on a park bench watching the two most important women in his life build a lopsided snowman. The words of the letter turned into images in his mind as Peg went on, telling him how when they'd come home Erin had gotten snow inside her boots and lost a glove at some point. She'd gotten the fire started in the living room hearth and cuddled up with Erin wrapped in a blanket, making popcorn over the fire.

The smell of the slightly burnt popcorn was filling BJ's nose when Charles returned to the Swamp smelling of aftershave, breaking the illusion BJ had created.

"Broke your perfume bottle, Charles?" He asked, glancing up from his letter.

Huffing, Charles dried what was left of his hair.

"I'll have you know that this was a very expensive bottle sent to me by my dear sister Honoria, after I told her about the Swamp I'm forced to live in." He explained, his nose held high as if nothing in the world could reach him.

"Don't tell me you think we stink. I had a shower last month and from what I heard Hawk had a bath." BJ narrowed his eyes on Charles as the man reached for his record player. "You're not playing Beethoven again are you. Some people in here would like to get some rest." He warned.

Stopping himself Charles looked down at the record he'd been playing non-stop the last few days. "You know you are right." He agreed picking up the record. "I've had enough of Beethoven's classic music." He returned the record to its folder and started flicking through his collection. "Ah! Now Nikolaj Rimskij-Korsakov is something one can relax to." He pulled out a record and placed it gently in his record player.

"If that needle so much as touch that record I promise you, there will be consequences." Warned BJ, putting down Peg's letter. Glancing over at Hawkeye, he was fairly sure his friend was still sound asleep, but if Winchester played his stupid music that was going to change.

"The only thing that's going to happen when I drop this needle is the harmonious eruption of a symphony." He placed the needle at the outer edge of the record and a trumpet followed by drums sounded from the thing, the sound turned up so Charles could pretend he was sitting at a live concert.

Biting his lip BJ glanced over at Hawkeye whose arm had slipped out from under the blanket and was blindly searching for something on the floor. "Least you can do is turn down the sound before it's turned off." Said BJ, seeing Hawkeye's fingers fiddle with the shoelace to one of his boot's pulling it towards him.

"Hunnicutt, if I turn down the volume I won't be able to hear the finer notes of the violins, nor experience the vibrations of the drums." Sighed Charles, pulling on a pair of shorts.

"Here's a vibration for you to experience." Hissed Hawkeye, throwing the boot across the tent. He had aimed for the record player but was terrible at throwing anything. The heavy army-boot tumbled through the air, falling short of the desk with the record player, hitting Charles ankle.

"Heh! You call that a throw. Please, I've thrown harder than that." Huffed Charles, moving a bit closer to his precious record player as he pulled on a t-shirt.

"Where's Spearchucker when you need him." Croaked Hawkeye, sitting up. He grabbed the second boot taking aim.

That's was when BJ decided to stop him before things escalated into a war. Nimbly he moved across the room and grabbed the boot just as Hawkeye was about to throw it.

 The boot slipped out of Hawkeye's weak grip and he looked at his empty hand in puzzlement. “Where did my boot go?”

"I think that's enough of things being thrown." Said BJ, as if talking to a child. Charles was laughing at them, in that way that told everyone that he was nervous.

"You know what Beej, you're right." Grumbled Hawkeye, throwing of his blanket he got up shifting his balance to stay upright. "Sorry for the boot Charles, I should have just walked up and smashed the thing myself." He said, walking up to the burly man and shoving him to the side reaching for the record that was still playing.

"Don’t you dare lay your filthy fingers on my records!" Spat Charles, grabbing for Hawkeye's hands.

BJ could only watch as the petty slapping of hands turned into a brawl. He considered telling them to stop but knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Calmly he got up and walked to the Swamp door avoiding the two men as they hit Charles bed causing the legs to collapse taking them both to the floor.

Sticking his head outside BJ saw Klinger and Father Mulcahy crossing the compound. Placing two fingers in his mouth BJ whistled loudly over the noise of the tent. Both the father and Klinger turned around catching BJ's eyes.

"Mind giving me a hand in here." He asked waving the two over.

Completely engulfed in his fight with Charles, who managed to pull him away every time he snaked out of the other's hold to smash the record player, Hawkeye was oblivious to the people BJ was getting to help. That was until Mulcahy had his arms under Hawkeye's, his fingers locked behind his head in a steely arm-lock. Both Klinger and BJ were holding Charles back, not being as skilled as the father in fights.

"Just ... _cough_...let me punch that record ... _cough_... right in his ego." Hissed Hawkeye, he was out of breath and the cough was back.

"Lay one finger-, breath one word-, think one thought of my records and I swear on my skills as a surgeon, you will eat your next meal through a straw!" Roared Charles, his face red with fury.

"Will you two cut it out!" Shouted Father Mulcahy, "This sort of action is unbecoming of skilled surgeons as yourself, let alone adults!"

"He's the adult, I'm still a kindergartner taking a freaking midday nap!" All the air left Hawkeye as he broke down coughing, his chest burning in protest and he was glad for the support Mulcahy gave him.

"Come on you two. Let's have the Colonel sort this thing out. I know he loves settling disagreements." Said Klinger, he and BJ dragged Winchester out of the tent followed by the father who'd let go of Hawkeye who was trying to silence his coughing.

“They should rename this place High School 4077th, I feel like I’m being dragged to the principal’s office.” Coughed Hawkeye, as the five of them walked over to the Colonels office.

“I’m sure you are accustomed to being lectured by the principal, being the obnoxious child that you are.” Shot Winchester back, as he was pushed through the double doors.

“Only for peeping in the girls shower, never for starting fights like you.” Responded Hawkeye, clearing his throat before the irritation started another coughing fit.

The Colonel was in his office, his head bent over a letter. “Park it you two. I am just finishing this letter to the Mrs.” Ordered Potter, and the three surgeons found comfortable sets around the room. Charles on a chair in front of the desk, BJ atop the Colonel’s saddle and Hawkeye in the comfortable chair beside the stove, where he wrapped his robe and jacket tight around himself resting his head against the wall.

Putting down the pen Colonel Potter looked up from his letter. “Now then, What’s all this ruckus about? I could hear your fight all the way over here, I’m pretty sure even the Chinese heard you.”

“Us or the music?” Asked Hawkeye.

“Both, a canon would have been quieter.” Added BJ.

”Well Colonel, I for one is not to blame for this. I only played my music as I always do at this time of day. Pierce is the one who started the commotion when he threw a boot at my record player.” Huffed the major, believing himself to be inflatable.

“If you could even call that a throw.” Snickered BJ.

Hawkeye was about to respond when the cough stole his words. Covering his mouth with his arm he turned away from the conversation. The worst thing about being in the same room as three other doctors was that one of them was bound to take notice of his coughing. Charles was the one who couldn’t care less if Hawkeye coughed his lungs out and BJ was the one who wouldn’t say anything if he wasn’t really concerned.

Colonel Potter was the sort of person who didn’t let a small thing like friendship or what other’s thought stop him from being a good doctor and commander. His sharp eyes narrowed on Hawkeye. “You got something stuck in your throat Pierce?” He asked.

Clearing his throat, Hawkeye nodded. “Oh, yeah! I’m just trying to swallow Charles’s music.” He cleared his throat again wishing he had something to drink.

“Ah ha.” Said the Colonel dryly.

“Are you saying that my music, my only escape from this hell hole is bad!” Huffed Charles.

“No, I’m saying it’s bad.” Smiled Hawkeye. “Terrible, horrendous, atrocious, ear splitting bloodcurdling… cough… glass breaking…” he stopped talking before the coughs started again.

“Ha. Pierce you don’t have an ear for music, I’d call you tone deaf but you are clearly damaged by all that screeching they play over the radio.” Said Charles, his snobbish tone making even the laugh sound like an insult.

“Okay you two, zip it.” Ordered Potter. That’s one thing that could be said for the respect they all held for the Colonel, they all shut up. “Good, now it seems that we are back to the old fight over Winchesters music. And as I’ve told you boys before. Deal with it!”

BJ and Hawkeye opened their mouths to protest and got a sharp eye from the Colonel, silencing them. Charles on the other hand smiled and got up from his seat. “Well then Colonel, seeing as the disagreement is settled I’ll be on my way now.”

“Not so fast Winchester. Sit your behind back down.” Charles sat down his mouth shut. “Now Hunnicutt, give Hawkeye the once over, I don’t like the sound of that cough.”

“Colonel, it’s nothing.” Protested Hawkeye as BJ moved over to him, placing a hand on his forehead and poking his neck gently drawing a wince from him. “Stop that will you.” Grumbled Hawkeye.

“He’s got a temperature. Open your mouth and say 'Ah' Hawk.” Reported BJ, tilting Hawkeye’s head to catch the light from the lamp overhead.

“I’m not saying Ah, I’m alright, it’s just a slight irritation of the throat.” BJ glanced over at Potter as Hawkeye said it. “Stop talking behind my back you two. You don’t think I can’t hear what you're thinking but I can read looks too. You think I’m sick. I’m telling you I’m not. Aw, stop poking so hard BJ, I’m not a needle-cushion.”

“Quiet down Pierce, You jumped into the river yesterday and didn’t get out of your wet clothes until you came back here. I’d be surprised if you didn’t even get a runny nose.” Said Potter, talking in his grandfather tone. “BJ, what’s your diagnosis?”

“Throat’s a bit inflamed, I’d prescribe two aspirin and rest.” Said BJ, making Hawkeye laugh and then cough.

Nodding Potter turned to Charles. “Well then Winchester, for the next 24 hours you can play your music anywhere else than the Swamp.”

“I’m… Excuse me sir!” Exclaimed Charles, sounding taken aback. “You just said that these two should find themselves in hearing my music, why should I have to give up my relaxing tunes because Pierce’s got the sniffles?”

Sighing Potter gave Charles a look. “I said you can play your music anywhere except the Swamp. There are plenty of places around here where you can plug that record spinner in to.”

“But sir!” Pleaded Charles.

“Start in the Officers Club, that place should be empty at this time of day, and when they throw you out there’s always the mess tent.” Ordered Potter, waving his finger dangerously at Winchester.

 “But sir, the acoustic in the Officers club is atrocious.” Whined Charles.

“Good, then you’ll know how we feel hearing it.” Retorted Hawkeye, rolling his eyes at BJ who was taking his pulse.

“I don’t give a hoot about the acoustics Winchester. Now if you three don’t have anything else to say, do like the wind and blow. I have paperwork to take care of.” Sighed the Colonel.

Hawkeye jumped to his feet. “We’ll if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my cot.” He said, untangling himself from BJ who was still trying to examine him. Fortunately the man wasn’t a mind reader or he would have noticed Hawkeye’s head spinning as he stood up.

Leaving the room before the others Hawkeye nearly knocked Klinger over as he exited the office.

“Sorry sirs, I was just filing some papers.” Smiled the man, showing a handful of blank papers.

“Ah ha.” Sighed Hawkeye, knowing the same trick Radar used to pull when eavesdropping on the Colonel. He let it slide, eavesdropping was part of the clerks job.

Walking into Post-op, taking it as a shortcut to the Swamp his eyes fell on Margaret sitting with the two Korean girls by the boy’s bed. She had a book in her hands reading them a story. The patients who were awake were either sitting up or facing the Major, listening to the story.

Yawning, Hawkeye sauntered over to the foot of the bed and picked up the boy’s chart, leaning on the bed frame while pretending to read.

“Entering the house, the hunter found the wolf sleeping in grandmothers bed, his belly bulging. The hunter could hear Little Red Riding hood calling from inside the huge belly.” Read Margaret, having them all hanging on to every word. “Quietly, the hunter drew his dagger and cut open the wolfs belly, freeing little red riding hood and her grandma.” None of the kids could understand what the Major was saying, but the way she read the story had them all at the edge of the cot.

“Before they left, they filled the wolfs stomach with heavy rocks and sewed his belly close. Tricking him into believing little red riding hood and her grandma was still in there. When the wolf woke up and stumbled out of the house he had a horrible bellyache. Little red riding hood and her grandma were never seen by the big bad wolf again and lived happily ever after. The End” Margaret closed the book smiling at the kids. “There you go, wasn’t that an exciting story?”

“It sure was, that story was the reason I wanted become a surgeon. So I could take out Little red riding hoods and her grandma from the belly of the big bad wolf.” Smiled Hawkeye, the story had made him feel sleepy and he was leaning cross armed on the cot frame.

“I bet it was.” huffed Margaret, tugging at the boy’s blanket, tucking him in. Hawkeye could see that he was struggling to stay awake and sweat was beading his brow. The chart had said that he was running a fever and they were keeping an eye out for pneumonia.

“Get some sleep now, your sister and friend will be here with you.” Said Margaret to the boy before getting up and rounding on Hawkeye. “Was there something you wanted or did you just stop by to hear a bed time story?” she asked, making it sound like an insult.

“Just stopped by to be put to sleep by your reading of a really bloody story. You know that you could have told them the original ending, they don’t understand English. And why did you say that one was his sister and the other a friend, I thought they were all related?” Croaked Hawkeye, his voice breaking at the end of his sentence.

Rolling her eyes Margaret grabbed the chart from Hawkeye’s hands. “We asked Rosie to translate for us. Father Mulcahy needed some information for nurse Cratty’s Orphanage. It turns out the older girl was taken in by the other twos family after her village was shelled and then when the next shell destroyed these two’s home and orphaned them the oldest one took it on herself to lead them south to safety.”

Rubbing his eyes, Hawkeye yawned.

“It’s sad to see children grow up so fast.” He muttered, straightening as he glanced at the girls who were comforting the boy as he drifted off to sleep. “Let’s hope they get to be children again at the orphanage.”

“One can only hope.” Sighed Margaret, hanging up the chart. “We should do a picnic when spring comes, play games like we did with Sister Theresa’s children.” She smiled turning to the desk at the end of the room.

“That we should, I could use another mud bath with you.” Smiled Hawkeye, turning to walk back to the Swamp.

Entering the tent Hawkeye nearly tripped over his own boot that was still on the floor, together with Charles blanket and other things that had gotten knocked down during the fight. Winchester himself was collecting his record player and an assortment of records. The man ignored Hawkeye as he fell down on his bed with a loud moan. He didn’t even seem to hear him as another round of coughs raked his throat.

Having collected his things Charles stuck his nose in the air and strutted out of the Swamp. Sighing Hawkeye grabbed his mug,

“Finally some peace and quiet.” he looked around the many surfaces for something to drink. His eyes lingered on the still for a moment before he got up and left the tent.

Crossing the compound Hawkeye entered the mess tent. Inside, a few men and nurses were hanging around, drinking coffee and minding their own business. Ignoring the coffee, Hawkeye filled his mug with water and drained it before refilling the mug and returned to the Swamp.

Inside the messy tent BJ was fiddling with the still. “There you are, I thought you had fallen through the cracks in the floor.”

“Nah, there’s only rats falling through those cracks. Had Frank still been here he would have easily fallen through them.” Sighed Hawkeye, sitting down on his bunk. “I just went by the mess tent to grab myself an imitation gin.” He smiled and poured half the water into a matinee glass.

“Ah, good choice. I got you these from the dispensary.” BJ handed Hawkeye a bottle of aspirin. “Get some rest, I’ll make sure the lunch walks over here later.”

Hawkeye smiled and shocked out two pills from the bottle. “If it barks I don’t want it.” He threw back the aspirin, washing it down with the water. “Wake me when the war’s over.” He yawned, pressing his face into the pillow.

“If the war doesn’t wake you before I do.” Sighed BJ sitting down on his bunk with a matinee in one hand and the beginning of another letter to Peg in the other.

“Say hello to Peg for me.” Murmured Hawkeye, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“I will. Go to sleep Hawk.” Answered BJ, listening to his friend coughing as he tried to fall asleep.

 

The damned coughing woke Hawkeye every so often during the day. Whenever the coughing didn’t wake him Charles’s music and disagreements did. The man had been forced out of the officers club, then the mess tent, Major Houlihan’s tent, the motorpool, post-op, Rosie's, the store room, and so on. If it hadn’t been for the headache and trouble falling asleep again Hawkeye would have enjoyed watching Charles get thrown out of every place.

Seeing the tray with what was served for lunch Hawkeye was glad that he didn’t have an appetite and just rolled over putting his back to it. Sometime in the evening he woke to the sound of his own ragged breathing, startled at the noise he started coughing. Only this time the cough attempted to pull out his lungs making him gag.

Rolling into a ball under his blanket, Hawkeye waited for the coughs to end his misery. When he caught his breath again he had a bizarre wheezing in his chest. Pushing himself to sit up Hawkeye drew deep breaths trying to see if that would clear the sound. It was dark in the tent and he could see the bundle of BJ in the cot beside him.

“Hawk, is that you making that noise?” Grumbled BJ, sounding half asleep himself.

“No, it’s just a rat.” Croaked Hawkeye, rubbing his arms trying to get warm.

“You sound like a broke record.” Mumbled BJ, rolling over in his bunk. “And Charles didn’t break any today, even though people tried very hard to do so.”

Hawkeye waved off his friends concern and grabbed the glass of water off his footlocker sipping at it.

“If you say so.” Yawned BJ, seemingly returning to his slumber

“So I say.” Hissed Hawkeye, pressing a hand to his aching head. He fumbled around in the dark for a moment before he found the bottle of aspirin. As he was washing down another two pills his ears picked up the faint sound of choppers. Or maybe that was just his breathing.

Getting out of his bed, Hawkeye wrapped the blanket around himself and walked out the door. Standing in the cold damp air outside the Swamp Hawkeye could see the pale light of dawn over the hills. The soft sound of distant choppers was audible to Hawkeye’s ears, in another moment the PA man blew into the microphone.

“Attention! Attention! The sun is rising in the North and we got wounded here in the South. Get your asses out of bed end into the cold bloodbath. Also today's weather is going to be cold and damp with a chance of another rain of wounded.” The speakers fell silent but the whole camp was awake and hurrying to get to their posts.

Sighing Hawkeye walked towards the triage area. His throat was dry and sore and his whole body felt liked he’d been crushed by a football team without any gear on. If he was lucky they wouldn’t get to many wounded, then again when was he ever lucky.

A litter jeep drove past Hawkeye with the Colonel driving. The man looked like he’d been awake for hours. He probably had too, the Colonel was one of the first to grab breakfast in the morning, before it was bright enough to see what he eat.

As always there were ambulances and buses following the helicopter and the 4077th soon found themselves sorting through wounded soldiers as they were carried out to the ground in front of the pre-op door. More than once Hawkeye nearly joined the wounded on the ground, the nurses could hardly hear what he told them because he couldn’t raise his voice.

After a while they left the triage to the nurses going inside to scrub up. Charles had already scrubbed and was taking his first chest case leaving the three other’s to scrub in peace. Well, as much peace as they could get with Hawkeye’s coughing.

After he’d doubled over for a second time, holding on to the wash sink with a spinning head and a burning chest, the Colonel threw down the towel. “That’s it! Pierce, I’m ordering you out of here and back to your bed.”

“Good, I get my things and jump on the next chopper to Kimpo, my cot over here is going to be so jealouss of my bed at home-.” Croaked Hawkeye, finding it easy to follow the Colonels order without protest. He pulled off the mask and the cap he’d put on and sank down on the bench in the scrub room. “Mind if I sit down until the room stops spinning. Or is it just my brain playing Russian Roulette with my eyes.”

“Have you been at that gin machine again. I thought I ordered you to get some rest yesterday.” Huffed the Colonel, walking over to Hawkeye pushing his fringe out of his eyes.

“I don’t know if I did or not. Ask Beej, I think he was more awake than I, writing letters home to last him throughout this war and then next.” Said Hawkeye, blinking up at the Colonel.

“He slept all of yesterday. Whenever Charles wasn’t shouting or he wasn’t coughing his lungs out.” Shrugged BJ, rinsing his hands.

“And you let him walk out to triage?” the Colonel peered at Hawkeye’s eyes, his cold hands doing wonders for Hawkeye’s throbbing head.

“Only a man with a suicide wish would try and stop him.” Smiled BJ, looking over at Hawkeye his expression changed slightly. “You need a hand finding your way back to the Swamp?”

Shaking his head Hawkeye pushed the Colonel’s hands away from his face. “Thanks pal but this bench got my name on it.” He said sliding down to put his head on the hard wood. “Wake me if you need me.”

Shaking his head the Colonel unhooked Hawkeye’s rob from its peg and put it over him. “We won’t need you. Stay here until you have the energy to crawl back to the Swamp. Try not to spread your germs all over the place. I hate to put some poor corpsman on disinfecting this place.”

Chuckling Hawkeye closed his eyes. “I’ll try.” He wheezed.

People walked in and out through the scrub room while Hawkeye dosed. He heard parts of conversation and saw people in white gowns or coats walk past. There was no real way of telling time, the coughing never really stopped making everything into a living misery.

It was some time later that Winchester walked in with a groan. “Four hours with no break, Post-op shift that kept me awake all night, and no time to relax before that.” He huffed, sitting down on Hawkeye’s ankles. “Pierce, please move your feet?”

“I can’t you're sitting on me.” Muttered Hawkeye, having no energy to even lift his head of the bench.

“Do I have to do everything around here!” Grumbled Charles, roughly pushing Hawkeye’s legs off the bench. Unwillingly Hawkeye sat up taking deep heavy breaths. “Had you been in there we would have been finished an hour ago, maybe even earlier if you had even cared to lift your lazy bum from this bench.”

“Yeah yeah.” Wheezed Hawkeye, feeling out of breath and like a river was running down his back.

“Are you still playing the hangover game.” Huffed Charles, eyeing Hawkeye. “What’s the matter with your breathing, you sound like you’ve got a broken fan in your throat.”

“Not sure a fan didn’t break my throat.” Answered Hawkeye, wincing as the use of his vocal cords.

“That means you are not feeling any better than yesterday, ergo I was banned from my own tent for no good reason.” Charles glared at Hawkeye. “I was thrown out of more doors and risked my records more times than you can imagine!”

The door from the OR opened and Margaret walked in dragging a coughing Klinger behind her. “I’ve had it with you Klinger, if you're sick you do not work in the OR! You’ll spread all those germs over the patients and we’ll have a whole other war on our hand!” Yelled the major, pushing Klinger down on the bench beside Hawkeye.

“I’m sorry major… cough… I thought it had settled when I woke up this morning… cough.” Klinger rested his head against the wall.

They both coughed and winched at the pain it caused them. The majors exchanged a look before turning back to the two others. Charles was the one who came to the obvious conclusions first and jumped off the bench. “You two have got the same thing.” He huffed walking over to the wash basins scrubbing his hands once more.

Margaret on the other hand walked closer to the two and placed a hand on each of their cheeks. “You are both running a temperature. How long have you been feeling sick?” she asked falling back on her nursing training, a softer part of her that she only showed her patients.

“I don’t know. Ever since we got back from battalion.” Answered Klinger. “Thought it was just the cold.” Hawkeye shrugged, avoiding the use of his voice.

“You’ve must have picked something up over there.” Hawkeye rolled his eyes and exchanged a look with Klinger. “Oh don’t give me that look, you’re a doctor Pierce, what do you think?”

Rubbing his face Hawkeye shrugged. “I think you should run some tests and start a course of penicillin.”

“Maybe do a chest x-ray, I don’t like the sound of your breathing.” Added Winchester drying his hands. “And seeing as it’s clearly contagious we should quarantine you two to the V.I.P tent. I’ll go tell the Colonel while you take care of the nursing Major.” And with that Charles had turned on a heel and walked back into the OR.

“Bet he’s just bursting to get me out of the Swamp so he can play his music-“ Hawkeye’s voice disappeared at the end.

Margaret made a face. “I don’t doubt it.” She huffed. “Come on you two, x-ray’s this way. Klinger you know how the machine works.”

“I do, but I’m not sure I can get my eyes to see straight.” Answered Klinger, rubbing at his eyes.

“It’ll stop after a while, just lay your head down and rest for a bit.” Said Hawkeye, his own head had stopped spinning after he’d rested.

Shaking her head Margaret grabbed Hawkeye's arm and pulled him up off the bench. “Well then I’ll start with Pierce. Don’t take all day crawling to the x-ray room.”

“Oh I won’t. I’ll just waiting for the floor to stop making waves.” Coughed Klinger, and like Hawkeye he sank down to lay on the bench. “Have fun Captain.” He added drawing a grin from Hawkeye and a scowl from the major.

However much Hawkeye wanted to fool around with the major, he didn’t have the energy to do it and instead let her lead him out of the scrub room and around the hospital to the x-ray room. Inside Margaret had him take of his robe and then narrowed her eyes on him. “You're going to have to take off your shirt as well, and your dog-tags.”

Grinning Hawkeye was about to say that she was making his dreams come true but the coughs broke him off. Making shushing noises Margaret rubbed Hawkeye’s back. Once he caught his breath Margaret was handing him a glass of water. “Small sips.” She ordered.

“Why Margaret! You planned all of this to get me out of uniform.” He smiled, straightening as he sipped the water.

“If you weren’t so sick I would slap you.” Huffed Margaret, tugging at Hawkeye’s shirt. He raised an eyebrow, giving her a sidelong glance. “Don’t get any ideas, the image is clearer without the shirt on, or the dog-tags. They tend to make a really bright spot in the middle of these kinds of x-rays.

Hawkeye only smiled and let the major undress him. He wished that every word he said wasn’t hurting so much but found himself in flirting with his eyes instead. Margaret could read his looks and responded in the completely opposite was to how other nurses would.

By the time they were finished nurse Kelly had helped Klinger over. It didn’t take them long to finish the shots and send them for developing. When they were finished in the x-ray room Potter and BJ were on their cases and the next hour was spent with Klinger and Hawkeye being poked and prodded, samples were taken and questions were asked, though not fully answered.

When they finally were allowed to leave the hospital both were too tired to walk and was wheeled over to the V.I.P tent. Someone had put another cot into the tent and hopefully deloused the one that had been there before.

“Now you two get some rest and we’ll get to the bottom of this in no time.” Ordered the Colonel helping Klinger into bed, making sure he didn’t get tangled in his pink bathrobe and IV. They had both been given a shot of penicillin and a cough medicine that made them drowsy.

“If you need us we’ll be dropping by every so often to check on you.” Smiled Margaret giving Hawkeye a hand.

“Mind getting me my latest copy of Nudist Magazine, Major? It’s under a book called A Prisoner of Love, somewhere in my footlocker.” Winked Hawkeye, sinking down on his cot. “I like to have some light reading.” He yawned.

The Major looked appalled then collected herself enough to give Hawkeye a smile. “I’ll get it.” She smiled and something about that smile didn’t sit right with Hawkeye.

“Maybe I should get that magazine for you. You know, to make sure no stray flames gets to it.” Said BJ, wheeling the chair out of the crowded V.I.P tent.

Hawkeye wasn’t sure what his answer was or even if he gave a response, he was unconscious before the door closed behind BJ.

Everything that happened after he put his head against the pillow was sort of a blur. He could remember coughing his lungs out and major Houlihan forcing him to take the stupid cough medicine. She then went over to Klinger forcing him to take it was well.

At some point BJ was in the tent with trays of food. Even if the smell of what the mess tent had sent over made Hawkeye want to throw up, the thought of forcing something down his hurting throat made him even less willing to eat whatever was on the spoon BJ held to his mouth. Klinger was a bit more talkative as he poked at the food making it look like he was eating but Hawkeye didn’t see him put anything in his mouth.

“Alright.” Sighed BJ, putting down the spoon. “I wouldn’t eat this slop if I was you ether.”  He smiled getting up. “Klinger, you want more to eat?”

Shaking his head Klinger handed BJ his own tray. “Unless it’s Pacco’s hot dogs I’m not hungry. Feels like I’m swallowing razor blades anyways.” Hawkeye made a sound of agreement.

“I bet. You guys just rest.” BJ moved towards the door.

“Beej.” Croaked Hawkeye, getting his friend to halt.

“Yeah?”

“How’re the tests coming?” he asked, keeping his voice to a whispered.

Licking his lips BJ turned to face Hawkeye. “We are still running them. The x-rays show’s fluids in your lungs, which is causing the coughing and your shortness of breath. Klinger’s images were clear. We are right now trying to figure out what’s causing the symptoms. You don’t think you could have breathed in water when you decided to take a swim the day before.”

Shrugging Hawkeye rolled over to his side. “Might have. I don’t know, I tried to breathe through my gills.” BJ smiled at the slight joke.

“We are trying to treat the pneumonia and fever first and deal with whatever comes next. It’s still a mystery how Klinger got it. He wasn’t in the river.” He gave Klinger a smile that was weakly returned.

“How about the Korean boy? He wasn’t breathing that well when I saw him yesterday.” Said Hawkeye, trying to get his overheating brain to work.

“Just rest Hawk, We are already thinking about that.” Said BJ, tucking Hawkeye back in. “I’ll be back at supper time.”

Things got a bit fogy after that, Klinger said something at one point, the next moment Hawkeye was coughing and laying bent over the cot edge. When he wasn’t coughing his lungs out Klinger was. People moved in and out of the tent, their presence melting into Hawkeye’s fevered dreams. At one point he could have sworn that Colonel Blake was sitting at the foot of his cot playing solitaire with Trapper.

What woke him from his confusing dreams was a repeated shuffling and creaking sound. Rubbing his glued closed eyes Hawkeye squinted around in the dim tent. The shuffling sound was coming from the other side of the tent where he could hear Klinger coughing. Pushing himself up, Hawkeye grabbed his glass of water from the shelf beside his cot and sipped at it to keep his own coughing at bay.

Klinger’s tossing and turning grew more frantic. His coughs were interrupted by half choked words. “Klinger!” Croaked Hawkeye, unable to raise his voice over the others mans’ noise.

“No ma’ No… cough… Home, Toledo… cough…Sir! No NO no-!” Between the coughing and fragmented words Hawkeye couldn’t make sense of what Klinger was saying. The man started kicking and flailing, his sleep talking grew more and more frantic causing his cough to worsen.

Rolling out of his cot, Hawkeye stumbled over to Klinger and shook his shoulder lightly. “Klinger.” He croaked.  The Lebanese man waved his arms in front of his face screaming in fear, nearly giving Hawkeye a black eye. “Klinger!” wheezed Hawkeye as loud as he could, grabbing Klinger’s arms to stop his flailing.

Hating himself for doing it Hawkeye shook Klinger awake.

The man’s eyes flew open. “What! Who…whe…” Klinger started coughing and Hawkeye let go of him. Grabbing the empty glass on Klinger’s shelf, Hawkeye filled it from a pitcher and handed it to the coughing Lebanese.

“Sip at it.” He cautioned Klinger, as the man brought the glass to his lips.

Drinking carefully so as not to choke, Klinger relaxed. When the coughing had subsided enough for him to talk he sighed letting his head sink back into his pillow. “I was back in Toledo, everyone had been drafted and sent back in coffins.” Wheezed Klinger, his voice disappearing.

Hawkeye leaned against the tent wall turning on the lamp by the bed. “It was just a dream.” He said, looking the man over. His eyes were wide and flickering all over the place, sweat rolled down the side of his flushed face. His breath was heavy and there was a wheezing sound as he breathed.

“It was so real.” Croaked Klinger, sitting up, shivering from the cold air touching his skin. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep after that nightmare.”

Nodding Hawkeye cast around for something to say. “The worst nightmares tend to do that. Thank the one we are living in. It gives my bad dreams nightmares.” His eyes fell on the desk that had been shoved into a corner. Stumbling over to the desk he pulled out a drawer and found the standard supplies they put in a V.I.P tent, among them a deck of cards. “You feel like you could take me in a game of poker?” he asked, showing the deck.

“Let’s see who’s the better bluffer in silent poker.” Hissed Klinger, straightening the blanket so they could place cards on it.

Grabbing the blanket from his cot Hawkeye pulled it around himself and sat down on the foot of Klinger’s cot. Shuffling the cards, Hawkeye dealt. “You got anything to bet, I left my cash in my other tent?” Asked Hawkeye, making Klinger wheeze as he picked up his cards.

Shaking his head, Klinger moved his cards around in his hand. “We can use IOUs.”

“Then I bet a dollar on this hand.” Said Hawkeye, picking out two trashy cards and throwing them on the blanket. “How many cards do you want?”

Taking out three cards and throwing them down beside Hawkeye's, Klinger held up three fingers. They played in silence for a while not really keeping count on who won what.

“You think this, whatever it is will pass?” asked Klinger after having thrown his whole hand away for a new one.

“Sure, when I’m married.” Hawkeye dealt out new cards and threw down his hand. “This hand is sicker than I am. What are you betting?”

Shrugging Klinger put down his own cards. “I bet my pink summer dress, it always swished around my ankles in the lightest breeze.”

“Didn’t you stop wearing dresses? I see your dress and bet my tux.” Answered Hawkeye, leaning his head against the tent wall. His headache was back.

“Seriously though, we're quarantined and can’t speak louder than a whispered. What do you think it is? Could the kids have given us something or was it maybe the aid station? I raise your tux with a floral hat.” Wheezed Klinger, rubbing his forehead.

Licking his lips Hawkeye shrugged. “It’s just an infection Klinger. Because it’s spreading they’ve lock us up so it doesn’t infect more people. We’d do the same if it was a breakout of the mumps. My bet it’s just a throat infection that’s been irritated by the cold and damp air. I caught pneumonia from my swim in the river of death.” Closing his eyes Hawkeye fingered his cards. “I see your hat and call. My latest copy of Snow White, smut version is in the pot as well.”

Klinger nodded turning over his cards.

“You win sir, Only got six high.” Croaked Klinger, turning away as he started coughing.

Turning over his own cards Hawkeye rubbed his eyes. “Tell me if I’m wrong but is there anything higher than a five in this hand.”

Squinting at the cards Klinger shook his head.

“You mean I won with a hand full of garbage!” said Klinger as Hawkeye nodded. “Good thing we aren’t playing for keeps or I’d be taking in that tux of yours right now.”

Hawkeye smiled. “You deal.” He said cracking open an eye to watch Klinger shuffle the deck. They played for another hour or so betting everything except the still and Klinger’s nose. None of them were trying very hard to win, enjoying each other’s company way more than the touching and concern of their friends who stopped by.

Klinger had a hard time keeping awake for the last rounds and was asleep before he could win the last game. Collecting the cards and tucking Klinger in, Hawkeye shuffled over to his own bed. He was still tired and felt like crap but his mind was working overtime. He wanted to know what it was that had gotten them sick and what it was. He could count of a lot of viruses that caused the symptoms he was experiencing, but someone had once told him not to look for zebras when it was just a horse. Unfortunately it wasn’t as clear and tangible a horse as Sophie.

Playing a round of Solitaire on his bed Hawkeye let his thoughts spin. A light knock on the door was followed by Margaret entering the tent.

“Ah, you are awake.” She smiled at Hawkeye who lifted a hand in a greeting. “How are you doing?” She asked, walking over to Klinger placing a hand on his brow.

Waving his hand in a “Meh!” way Hawkeye rubbed his throat.

“Voice still hurting?” She asked, tucking the blanket in around Klinger.

“Like a razor cutting through it.” Whispered Hawkeye, collecting the cards so the major could sit. “You know what this is yet?”

Sitting down on the edge of the cot Margaret pulled out a thermometer from her pockets placing it in Hawkeye’s mouth. “A combination of pneumonia and a throat infection. You two were really unlucky catching it from the boy in post-op. Nurse Baker got it as well, she’s confined to my tent and I’ve been forced to bunk down with the girls”

Hawkeye nodded. “Thought so. You could bunk down with me” He croaked, letting Margaret take his pulse.

“Don’t you wish.” She gave him an amused look. “You aren’t coughing as bad anymore.” She noted. “You feeling any better?”

“Had another nurse walked in here she and I would right now be sharing this cot.” Margaret smacked Hawkeye on the arm.

“It’s good to see you’ve got some energy back. But none of my nurses are coming near you, I’m not risking anymore of them getting sick.” Smiled Margaret, picking out the thermometer from Hawkeye’s mouth. She squinted at the tiny numbers then smiled even wider. “Your temperature is going down. Another day of rest and you might be back to your normal self again.”

“If I’m not myself right now who am I? Frank Burns?” He winked at Margaret who shook her head. “Care to join me in a game before I start walking around on the furniture?” He held up the deck of cards.

“Well, I don’t have to be on duty for another hour.” She took the cards from Hawkeye and shuffled them.

An hour later Margaret had already left. Another load of wounded had been dropped on them and all Hawkeye could do was sit on his cot hearing the people outside shout for plasma, call out who was next and who could wait.

Licking his lips Hawkeye shoved his feet into his boots and moved towards the door.

“Captain?” Wheezed Klinger, sitting up in his cot.

“Go back to sleep Klinger. I’m just going out to help with the wounded.” Croaked Hawkeye, grabbing the door-handle. The door was yanked out of his hand and something hit Hawkeye making him stumble back into the desk.

“Sir!” Exclaimed Klinger, coughing as he tossed off the blankets.

Looking up at who had bumped into him Hawkeye saw a scared young Korean man wearing the enemy uniform. The man looked just as shocked as Hawkeye and Klinger, a dark stain was coloring the left side of his uniform.

The man shouted something in Korean scrambling for something on his person. Klinger and Hawkeye lunged at the man as he pulled a knife from his pants.

“I got the knife!” Croaked Klinger.

“Good, let’s stop him from taking it back.” Retorted Hawkeye, as the three struggled for the knife.

The fight didn’t last long. Whatever injury the young man had come in with started taking its toll on him and the two found themselves guiding him down to the floor.

“Give me that knife.” Ordered Hawkeye, searching the man for the tag that would have been put on him at the aid station.

“Here.” Said Klinger, handing the knife over to Hawkeye.

Using the knife to cut open the uniform, Hawkeye squinted at the wound. The dim light was too weak to show what was blood and what was dirt. Hawkeye didn’t need to tell Klinger to bring the light, the Lebanese grabbed the lamp aiming it to shin down on the man. “Thanks Klinger Is there any alcohol in here?”

Snapping his fingers Klinger jumped to his feet and stumbled before turning to the desk going through the drawers. Hawkeye listened to the man’s chest listening to the heart beat and the worrying sound of the lungs. Biting his lips Hawkeye checked the ribs finding a few broken ones on the left side.

“Here you go.” Croaked Klinger, handing Hawkeye a bottle of brandy.

Grabbing the bottle Hawkeye used it to was the dirt and caked blood from the lacerations he’d noticed earlier.

“Okay, looks like he’s only got a shallow wound.” He peeled the man’s eyelids back peering at the irises for any signs of a head injuries.

“We can take him out to pre-op then!” Said Klinger, sitting down on the floor rubbing his chest.

“I’m not sure he’ll make it to pre-op, his lung's collapsed, impairing his breathing. See if you can find a pen or something tube like.” Said Hawkeye, searching the room for what he needed.

They found a pen and a moment later, Klinger had been promoted to Nurse and was assisting Hawkeye as he cut into the man’s side pushing the hollow tube into the chest. The whistling sound that came from the inserted tube drew a sigh of relief from both Hawkeye and the injured man.

Sitting back against a cot Hawkeye started coughing. “I think, I’ll go to sleep now. All this action tired me out.”

“Is the guy going to be alright?” Asked Klinger sitting down on the other cot.

“He’ll hold for a couple of hours. Until we can have him taken care of in OR.” Sighed Hawkeye. “I’ll keep an eye on him, if he gets worse we’ll have Igor take him to BJ and he can patch him up.”

“Oh, Good.” Klinger feel back on the cot unconscious within a minute.

Keeping an eye on the Korean man Hawkeye dosed off. It took their friends five hours to come check in on them. Colonel Potter had gone on break and checked in on them finding his missing patient on the floor still and breathing.

“What happened here?” Asked the Colonel, kneeling down to check the man.

“We had a visitor who couldn’t leave. Mind taking him with you? He’s sort of messing up our party.” Smiled Hawkeye, checking the tube in the mans chest.

“I’ll get a corpsman to do that.” Said the Colonel.

As if the words had been a wake-up bell Klinger sat up with a “Where do you want him sir?”

“Go back to sleep Klinger, you're off duty.” Said the Colonel.

“Oh,” said Klinger falling back on his bunk.

“You too Pierce, I want you back in the saddle as soon as you can. Thanks for taking care of our runaway.” Potter grabbed Hawkeye under the arm and guided him into the next cot, where the man let out a long ragged sigh and closed his eyes asleep within minutes.

 

Three days later Hawkeye was sitting in post-op reading a story for the Korean kid. His voice was back, though his cough wasn’t completely gone, and he sipped at his water bottle every so often as he read. The penicillin had done its work and after two days in the V.I.P tent Hawkeye could have returned to his own cot, as could Klinger. They stayed in the tent however, avoiding both Charles music and the growing mountain of work in Klinger’s office.

Turning a page Hawkeye took a gulp of water and continued reading. Just like Margaret he had the whole post-op ward hanging on to his every word though for different reasons. Margaret walked into the ward and stopped.

“What are you all doing?” she asked, getting shushed by BJ and Klinger who were leaning on the foot of the boys bed frame.

Seeing Hawkeye reading she nodded understandingly and sat down by the desk. They could all tell that she was listening as her cheeks slowly turned red and when Hawkeye finally got to the really good part she slammed her hands down.

“What do you think you're reading!” she shouted across the room.

The three kids who’d been listening intently jumped at Margaret’s reaction and looked from Hawkeye to her.

“Snow White and the seven dwarfs. It’s a classic.” Explained Hawkeye, showing the book and it hinting cover-image to the major.

“You are not reading them that dirty book!” she yelled, stumping over to them.

Jumping up and over the cot Hawkeye backed away from her. “Now Major, they don’t understand English, it’s perfectly clean smut.”

“Oh I’ve told you to keep those dirty books out of here!” she shouted, following Hawkeye over the cots and around the room. “When I get my hand on that book you are going to see a book burning like you never seen before. GET BACK HERE!”

**Author's Note:**

> I could prety much go on from here but decided that this needed an end. If you like it and want me to do more just leav a comment saying "More" or "Keep going" if you want me to do another chapter of what happens afterwards.


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